


Enough For The Dawn

by JD_Riley



Series: Victorian A/B/O [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bernard Finds His Kink, Beta/Omega, Blind Character, Caning, Consensual Kink, Detectives, Developing Relationship, Disability, Enemies to Lovers, England (Country), F/M, Female!Omega, First Time, Hate Sex, Historical, Investigations, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Femdom, Loss of Virginity, Male!Beta, Marriage Proposal, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, Physical Disability, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Victorian, Victorian Omegaverse, Whipping, White Collar Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 08:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 74,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15659757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Riley/pseuds/JD_Riley
Summary: Bern Porter is busy near the end of the London Season nursing his romantic wounds with the rest of the spurned Betas when his Alpha cousin beseeches him to assist in the covert investigation of a Baron: Emmett Nolan.  Abhorring any notion that he should get used to this kind of excitement, he begrudgingly acquiesces only to find that at every turn his efforts are thwarted not by Nolan, but by Nolan’s exceptionally clever and disturbingly brash Omega sister, Sophie.  Perceived as the villain, he discovers facets of his own sexuality that both thrill and appall him and as he becomes closer and closer to the truth, he begins to both fear and hope that the truth may bring him closer and closer toher.





	1. Chapter 1

Of all the places Bern never expected his cousin to find him, this was one. The country estate of his good friend, Nicolas, was normally a comfortable and out of the way haven wherein the untitled Beta gentlemen who happened to fringe the edges of society could hide away when they were feeling quite sorry for themselves in mid-May when most of the Omega debutantes had already been plucked up by the luckier Alpha suitors. His Alpha cousin barging from the terrace doors and onto the lawn was a novel sight as apparently the man had not accepted that he was unavailable and thus had the servants in a fair tizzy over his trespassing.

“Mr. Porter,” blustered the manservant, Handel, “I very much apologize but the man states that he is your kin and—”

“ _And I am!_ ” Wagner snipped loudly, drawing the eyes of every single man present, the majority of them playing lawn games or taking strolls about. “This is a matter of _grave_ importance and I will not be hindered by this absolutely ridiculous _pity-party_ you all seem intent to throw for yourselves.” The Alpha sniffed haughtily and squared his shoulders as he cast a judgmental stare over the men present until his eyes came to Bern where he sat with his gin and vermouth. “Bernard,” he greeted in a cool tone.

“Wagner,” he replied, sipping his drink. “I can't imagine what in the world could have brought you here.”

His cousin had long eschewed high society and the burdens it would have placed upon him, looking instead to function among the lower classes as a man who investigated crimes—a _detective_ of sorts. Unfortunately for Wagner, he was of a bull-headed breed of Alphas and he was a man who was often far too focused upon a single path. Though he could follow a man to the ends of the earth should he know who his man was, determining the perpetrator was not his strongest suit. When he was in a particular sort of bind, he very often came to his Beta cousin in order to lay down all of his facts and over a length of time it was probable that the two of them could hash out possible hypotheses.

Of course, Bern kept all of this a secret from Nicolas and the other Betas—after all, a man of leisure didn't spend his time in the presence of Alphas like Wagner Horne whose greatcoat was frayed and who often smelled of cheap tobacco and gunpowder. Having him burst into a Betas-only country get-away was dismally embarrassing and terrifically harmful to his image should it be exposed that in his free time he played armchair detective. It was this reason that prompted him to stand from his seat and scan the scene to find the others staring in his direction, their expressions betraying their eagerness to send the anxiety-inducing Alpha on his way as quickly as possible.

Another sip of his beverage and he turned around, dismissing Handel and hissing toward his cousin. “ _Must_ you harass me in someone else's private home?”

“You were not at Cliffside Manor where you were supposed to be and I had to pick at your sister for eons before she finally gave up where you were hiding. This is absolutely depressing, you know, all of you idiots solemnly wasting away only because you couldn't snatch up the Omegas. Surely there must have been _one_ who was plain enough to have been left as a wallflower.”

“You are insufferable and I hope you know that down to your very toes.” He finished his drink. “Let us take this conversation to the library and hope there's nobody there.”

“Gads, how many of you are there _moping_ about this dismal place?”

“Keep your voice down; these gentlemen happen to be my friends and if you care at all about having my assistance in whatever you're here about, you'll make your case known and then get the devil out of here.”

The Alpha followed him, casting odd looks back at the Betas who watched them leave and when they were alone in Nicolas' library, he stared down his nose. “I say, Bern, I've never thought you one for self-pity.”

“Get to the point or I swear to god, I'll punch you straight in your nose.” His voice was deceptively calm but he could feel the tingle of his ire rising in his chest.

“Scams, my dear cousin. _Scams_.”

“You need me for figures again? When will you ever learn to work out your own maths?” He moved to the cupboard and pulled out the gin, inspecting the decanter and sniffing at it until he picked out his glass and poured out three fingers.

“I don't need you for the maths. I need you for the _in_.”

“How am I supposed to be your _in?_ ”

“Let me explain,” Wagner told him, pacing about and eying his drink. Bern wasn't about to offer him one. “There's a very significant portion of the population in the ton who are at risk to be swindled out of a very large amount of cash. They've got a lot of reason to want their investments to be secure.”

“Yes, I'm sure their money will be very safe in _your_ pockets,” Bern sniffed. “Or are you doing this as a personal favor for them?”

Wagner scoffed. “Since when have I ever done one of these people a favor? No. I was approached by the Duke of Rushaven to pry into whether or not this investment is worth anything but the only lead that I have into the business is the Duke's friend who claims to have insider information on it.”

“And the business?”

“Shipping. Some up and coming called _White Line_ which sounds a tad close to _white lie_ to me.”

Bern sat on one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace and glowered at the Alpha who was now pacing. “You're suspicious of everything, even those little things that don't mean anything. Who is his friend?”

“Emmett Nolan, Baron Broadspear. He's man with a habit of making risky investments and he's lost quite a bit of money through the years by doing so.”

“You think he's in on the plot to scam his friend.”

“I think he could be in on a plot to scam quite a few of the ton. Of course _he_ likely could be a victim. No matter, I'll never be invited to any of his soirees so I need _you_ to be my eyes and ears.”

Bern laughed out loud, tossing his head back and letting it rest there for a few moments while he recovered. His body was willing to laugh even more for the gin was clearly going to his head. “You're absolutely daft, aren't you? You've no idea how society works.”

“Well I know that _I'm_ never going to be able to go to any of those kinds of parties and you're the only man I know who I trust who can get in.”

“You idiot,” he chuckled lightly. “Oh you poor, poor fool.”

Wagner frowned, obviously peeved. “I don't understand.”

“Clearly.”

“Well then correct me, sir,” he snapped.

There was a pause as Bern lifted his gin to his lips and tossed the rest of it back. “You, Alpha, seem to be under the impression that it is that I am financially their equal that gives me cause to waltz all over London and the country manors of Alphas at my leisure. Good sir, that is not the case at all.”

“You know him, don't you?”

“I know _of_ him. Not the same in the slightest. I haven't the faintest idea how in the world I would make his acquaintance. Do you even know where he is at current?”

“In London but it's likely that evidence would be at his country estate and he's having a Season's end party there soon.” Wagner was still staring at the gin in Bern's hand, his lips tight. “If you're to get an invitation, I suppose you'd have to rub elbows soon.”

“Good God. You want me to go back to town?”

“Tonight.”

“No.” He snipped the word before he handed Wagner his glass with only a single gulp left in it.

“You're not serious.”

“I'm perfectly serious.”

“You want to spend all of your time with these moping bastards? Listen to me, Bern, you're practically the only comely one of the bunch and you're going to act as though you're on the same level with them? You've got to be joking.”

This time his ire made its presence known through the heat in his voice. “Wagner, I don't give a deuce what it is that you think of us Betas. I know you don't understand us and I know you never will. But sometimes a man has to have a goddamned moment to be with others like himself!”

“But this is important!”

“ _You think everything you do is important! That's how Alphas are!_ ”

Wagner was stunned into silence, still holding that last gulp of gin without partaking of it and staring his cousin in the face. Mostly likely the man had never before been confronted with such an outburst and so his confused scent was of no shock at all.

Bern sighed, pacing about the room restlessly. “You're all so damned selfish.”

“I've told you now that it's plenty of your high society friends who're at risk here. Who's the selfish one?”

“Those Alphas are not my friends.”

“They're your rivals, is that it?”

“Perhaps that is how it is.”

Wagner gave a disbelieving little chuckle. “You cannot be serious. You wish them harm because they've been luckier in love than you have? What a petty little Beta you are.”

“And what a proud, strong Alpha you are coming to _beg_ me for help,” he snapped back.

“What do you want, Bernard?! Do you want a bribe?! I am being paid for this and if you help me, I'll give you half! I'll pay for whatever whores you want on top of it. I'll introduce you to some very accommodating Omegas should that be to your taste. Boys? Is it boys you like? I know plenty who'll suck your cock at your whim.”

“Do not stoop to this, cousin,” he growled.

“Then do not force me! It is a simple matter! Get into his house, get into his study, find me evidence then be rid of me!”

“Forever?!” he yelled, uncertain whether he had really meant to.

“Forever!” the Alpha bellowed back.

“ _Fine!_ ”

Wagner suddenly appeared smug and relaxed his tensed shoulders, letting them droop a little. “Fine.”

“ _Devil take you._ ”

Composing himself, he straightened his waistcoat and his shirtsleeves and forced the Alpha to wait for him the front hall as he regretfully told Nicolas that he was needed back in town. When prodded by his friend, he gave some noncommittal answers that seemed to hint less toward scandal and more toward business though nothing would help the gossip that his sudden departure would spark. Refusing to speak to Wagner, he climbed into his own coach with instructions to Alessio, his driver, to follow his cousin's rented one back to London. Then he sat back and covered himself with his comfortable blanket.

If there was any moping to be done, he thought, he would do it right here. He had spent the entire Season in town without having even one Omega spare favor for him despite his insistence to himself that if he was just more _persistent_ then they would see his merit. It was not the case. There were simply far too many eligible Alpha gentlemen that caught their eyes and he was nothing to them. In the Beta circles he was sought after by mothers looking to pawn off their odd Beta daughters and it was much too confusing to try to separate the wheat from the chaff when it came to those strange girls. None of them were particularly _suitable_ for him and especially none of the Idlewind sisters as they were all entirely too tall for his tastes though they were by far the most beautiful. Weak a man as he was (and he was ready to admit it), he was terribly insecure about dancing with a woman taller than he.

At least, he admitted to himself, investigating something like an investment scam was likely to be far more exciting than watching the other gents bowl in the lawn. Betas weren't known for excitement of any kind and Bern quite thought that he must have been a rarity indeed to have allowed for his cousin to rouse his adventurous side. At the first, his dips into Wagner's business had been confined to the parlor or even over dinner crunching up the numbers. He'd only gotten physically involved once before and only as a decoy in a scheme that had fished out a conman. It had fueled something inside him, no doubt, and it was both an arousal and a fear. He was afraid of how good it felt to be wickedly deceptive and to have to brought a man to justice. Such feelings of empowerment were meant for Alphas—not mild Betas such as himself.

_A pox on all things Alpha._ He huddled down in his seat, still buzzing with something between resentment and excitement. It was too much to allow for sleep and so, when Alessio had brought him to his bachelor flat in town, he ordered for some of his favorite gin to be brought to his favorite parlor and when Wagner arrived through the door, Bern quickly told him to leave him alone and not to call upon him until late the next day. His housekeeper, the stern and often vicious man, Urwin came to his rescue and told the Alpha in no uncertain terms that he would _not_ be admitted until past eleven the next morning. Wagner, having butted heads with the man previously, was summarily ejected.

“I was not expecting you, Sir,” Urwin told him dryly while handing him his glass of gin.

“I was not expecting me either,” he replied.

“Your room will be ready shortly. Can I expect any other unexpected guests?”

“Not any of which I am aware.” He turned around. “Alphas!” he exclaimed, stamping his foot a bit.

“Indeed, sir. It would seem that your cousin has gotten the best of you yet again.”

“And how does one stop this from happening?”

“I could not begin to imagine, sir.” His sharp eyes flashed in the dim firelight and Bern was suddenly aware that Urwin was not wearing his gloves—a sign that he had gotten roused from something in order to come greet the master of the house.

“I am sorry, Urwin. I hadn't meant to come bother you. I'll be off to my room as soon as it is finished.”

“Take your time, sir. I can see that you're flustered. What is it this time?”

“Scams. What else could it be?”

“Ah. And your role?”

“Spy.” He took a huge gulp of gin and shivered.

“I say,” Urwin mused without a hint of surprise in his tone. “He certainly thinks highly of you, does he not? Perhaps he is a bit... _forceful_ of nature but it is all in his admiration of you, do you not think?”

“You are far too charitable.”

“And you are not,” Urwin smiled, unruffled and impertinent. “I believe your room will be ready sir. Do you require anything else before I shuffle off myself?”

He glowered at the older man, unable to reprimand him for his tenure was far longer than Bern had even lived and he was loathe to speak to such a figure disparagingly.

“I will accept your silence as a 'no' and I shall depart accordingly. Goodnight, sir.” Without a shred of shame, Urwin turned and disappeared, leaving Bern to his own thoughts.

The hour late, and his glass and mind near full, he stood before the dimming fire in the hearth and sought not to think about what he had to do in the coming days. It was going to be tricky. I was going to be inconvenient. The worst of all: he thought it might even be _fun._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **No update schedule.** It will be somewhat regular though. I'm feeling quite a bit better and I've been updating on other platforms regularly. This is an effort to continue my exploration of dynamics and pairings. I know M/F and Beta/Omega aren't the most popular Omegaverse pairs but hopefully you'll find the plot and characters engaging enough to follow me on this one. I'm very excited to write a lot of Sophie and I can't wait until we get to her.
> 
> For more information on this story and others, make sure to check out my [Tumblr](https://jdwrites.tumblr.com/).


	2. Chapter 2

“Well?” Wagner asked of him while buttering a warm piece of toast at Bern's dining room table. It was likely all the Alpha would eat despite there being at his disposal a very noble breakfast indeed. Mimsy, his cook, was used to providing him with the best of her breakfast spreads as his tastes were quite refined in that matter so watching his cousin eat nothing but the toast was near to painful.

“Well what?”

“Are you ready to help me?”

He stabbed the tines of his fork into his egg. “I'm in town, aren't I? Tell me about this damned mess before I kill you here and now and have Urwin shove your nasty corpse into the river.”

The Alpha grinned at him. “I told you it was a shipping company. But where are the boats? They've private docks on the coast but I couldn't get close enough to 'em to see anything substantial. It could all be a sham, you know. Nobody will talk to me about it, of course. Why would they? Hardly saw a soul there anyhow!”

“Eat something more than toast. Mimsy made this for the both of us you know.”

“I'll eat what I want to eat.”

“Well want more.”

Wagner paused before he finished his toast and grabbed at one of the fresh oranges on the table, examining it closely before he began to pick at the flesh of it. “Broadspear has been touting this investment as one of the best he's ever made. Though any with a brain should know that the man's got questionable judgments when it comes to his finances, there are others who have already put money toward the line and are awaiting their first returns. Apparently there is some question of whether or not the urgency in the matter is justified.”

“Urgency in investments is not unheard of,” Bern supplied between bites.

“Too much urgency is a hallmark of a risky venture. Not only this but those who have just lost some money in other legitimate investments would be keen to make it back with something that is assured to them to be a safe and quick money-maker. With the Alphas in town for the season and all in one place, it would be easier to get their money while they're there and then disappear when they're gone.”

“And you think Broadspear is somehow on the inside with this matter?”

“He's the only lead I have. He's the one that Rushaven said was on his tail about investing. As far as I have found, the owner of this company is constantly unavailable and certainly will not make time for anyone who isn't a potential investor.”

Bern gave him an arched brow. “Pardon his paranoia with you, Wagner, but you've a reputation for driving a stake through a fledgling company's heart.”

“That company was collateral damage. It can't be helped that the founder of it was to be hanged for murder!” He sighed and sat back in his chair, popping slices of orange in his mouth and frowning at the sweet taste. “I swear to you I've fucked a boy who smelled like the taste of this.”

“Good God, cousin. So I suppose this is where I tell you that I've no actual ability to approach this man, Broadspear. I'm already considered a _Jack Brag_ who's climbed the social ladder by money and name alone even without a title. I'm considered an officious upstart and there is not a snowball's chance in hell that an Alpha Baron will ever grant me an invitation to his party.”

“You've already gotten invitations to parties, haven't you?”

“Lady Hayworth's ball, yes. Some garden parties... But those are all invitations from the ladies of the house who have Beta connections. I'm a bachelor. I'm only ever invited when it will be interesting for them or because there is a missing male figure and not enough Alphas available.” He tapped the tines of his fork on his bottom lip. “There is only one person I could even imagine might be able to grant me with a favor and only because she likes to be owed.”

Wagner rolled his eyes. “Those Omegas are the wit of this world, are they not?”

“She's a Beta,” he stated, setting down his utensils and lacing his fingers before him. “And she's not in town...”

Urwin chose to make himself known from the edge of the doorway at that moment, his aplomb extraordinary. “Excuse me, sir, but if you speak of Miss Idlewind, you'll be happy to note that she and her newly titled husband, Lord Whilton, are here temporarily on business.”

“Ah, so Swophill's father finally got all his ducks in a row then? Good for him. An heir worthy of his title finally.” He allowed himself a humorless smile toward his cousin. “Well to Lady Whilton then, since she'll be the most handy. We should call upon her today if urgency is necessary, though perhaps I should not bring you.”

Wagner frowned again, this time at him.

“It's etiquette, my friend. You're not...well, you're not one of us. I cannot be certain that your introduction will be welcomed.”

“And you think _my_ position is quite savage. A couple won't meet me because I've got less money?”

Bern cleared his throat and put his napkin to the side to stand up. “It is the house of a Lord and a Lady. It's a little more than money.”

“Little more than money!” he argued, getting up as well. “I'm coming with you. If they want me to wait in the carriage then they can tell me themselves.”

“This is my reputation you're playing with, cousin,” he snapped. “Should you like my help or not?”

“Fine,” he snipped, “go without me. But I'm staying in the carriage.”

It was just after noon when Bern took off his hat and explained to the servant who opened the door that he was looking to call upon the Lady of the house. Lady Whilton being a Beta, it was not _entirely_ odd to have a gentleman of the same dynamic call upon her and so he was left where he stood with his hat in his hands while she announced him. Led into the reception room, he gave the sitting woman a strong bow and sat across from her where she motioned for him to sit.

“Good day, Mr. Porter,” she mused, her auburn hair braided in a beautiful chignon and her cinnamon eyes sparkling in interest. “Tea?”

“No, don't get up,” he told her with a hand out. In truth, he couldn't stand it when Hannah Idlewind stood up. She was the tallest Beta he'd ever known and the fact simply could not grate on him enough. “I need to get to the heart of the matter, if you don't mind.”

“Not here for a social call then?” she asked politely, her brows just slightly raised.

“I suppose it is a bit of a social call but I've a matter I need to address and you're the only woman in the world that I thought of to help me.” He passed her a cheeky little smile and knew that it would intrigue her. After all, Bernard Porter was _nearly never_ cheeky. He was just about the blandest suitor who had ever been foisted upon her by every other Beta woman of the ton and so finding him in her parlor as the first caller of the morning and acting in such a manner was probably one of the last things she expected. There was true and honest excitement glittering in those cinnamon eyes now and that is just what he wanted.

She sipped her tea and set it down again. “Go on, Mr. Porter.”

“I have a need to procure an invitation and not just _any_ invitation will do. Baron Broadspear is having an end of Season bash at his country estate and I simply must go.”

She sipped her tea again, her gaze riveted upon him. “You don't say? May I ask the nature of this requirement?”

“I thought you might ask that. You see, there is this matter of...well...romance.” He was talking out his ass but it didn't much matter. The woman had a knack for match-making, she would understand, surely, if it was about a woman or an Omega. “You see, plenty of the unmated Omegas will be making the rounds of these post-Season get-togethers and I can't afford to miss at least one of them so I can have one last chance to woo them.”

Lady Whilton frowned. “Why Broadspear? Can it not be Viscount Halwill? I would surely be able to help you there for I am connected by marriage to his family.”

Bern felt his cheeks warm. “You see, my Lady, there is a _particular_ Omega that I am keen to woo and they are, of course, going to Broadspear's...I've got it on good authority anyhow. If this is far too large a favor, I do understand. After all, I know not how I shall ever repay you should you take it upon yourself to aid me.”

“Do not burden yourself with worry, I'm certain you will have some small favor you may do for me in the future.”

Exactly what he expected her to say and exactly what he wanted. Should she ever have need for him, he would be available in whatever facet and owing a favor to a woman like Lady Whilton was by no means some terrible thing. He imagined that he was in good company with plenty of titled Alpha gentlemen who owed her much for her ministrations in their marriages. “That is very kind of you, my Lady. If you have any ideas...”

“I will talk to Lord Whilton. Perhaps he is in acquaintance with Broadspear and he'll be able to introduce you. How about a small dinner party? It shouldn't be overly difficult to whip one up, do you not think?”

“That would be lovely. If you do manage this, I will be in your debt for certain, my Lady.”

Her smile was devious and in some way, he thought, she must have been quite satisfied with herself. After all, she and him had not always been the kindest to each other for their mutual aloofness was often tread upon by well-meaning family members and the only outlet for frustration was...well, each other. Oh yes. She would simply adore being owed by Bernard Porter.

He took off his gloves when he sat back down in the carriage across from Wagner and sighed when the Alpha began to grill him with questions over how it all went.

“Calm yourself, cousin. It went fine. I'll be introduced to Broadspear within the week and if I'm as good as you think I am at ingratiating myself into the social circles of Alphas then I'll be snooping about his private office mere days beyond that.”

“Wonderful,” Wagner chirped, his scent burningly happy and irritating as all hell. “I've got full faith in you, Bern. We'll have this wrapped up in no time.”

“I'm glad one of us thinks so. I hope you know that this is a terrible idea.” He felt snippish and told the driver to take him home, unable anymore to stand his officious cousin so nearby. No doubt he would have to bathe when he got home just to get the man's rampant scent off of him. He was not in full confidence of himself though he had to choose not to betray it. Smugness was an Alpha trait and one that he was bent on imitating.

Terrible idea or not, it took only until the next morning for a small invitation to arrive to his doorstep urging him to come to Lord Whilton's town house for a small gathering of friends to celebrate the end of the Season. Wagner was ecstatic, strutting about his house with a brandy snifter constantly in his hand and telling him over and over that their plan was fool-proof.

“Yes,” Bern muttered to himself after the last time his cousin said it while he was getting ready for the dinner. “Fool-proof if _I'm_ not the fool.”

“What do you mean?” Wagner asked, “You're brilliant! I've never met a Beta as intelligent as you are!”

“You don't meet a lot of Betas,” he grumbled, thankful when he was finally in his coach and on his way so that he wouldn't have to suffer through the Alpha any longer. Unfortunately he was about to be trapped in a room full of Alphas all night and the prospect was honestly infuriating. He never should have ever said he would go through with something like this. With a few calming breaths, he managed to calm his nerves and float through the entrance to Lord Whilton's home with a distinctive Beta aloofness that was characteristic of the dynamic. It made him seem at once both important and untouchable which was, of course, the point. Such a combination of traits would ideally make him seem unattainable—something Alphas found as a challenge. Of course, it only half worked and only half the time. Most Alphas couldn't be arsed to bother with gaining Betas as friends unless they needed them for something.

Divested of his jacket, he made his way into the drawing room as he was announced and bowed skillfully to Lady Whilton who wore a brilliant scarlet gown trimmed in silver which matched the glinting rubies and diamonds that shimmered in her hair. She greeted him fondly and allowed him to kiss the backs of her fingers while the Alpha guests peered at him oddly, as if not expecting a title-less gentleman and a Beta no less among them.

“Miles will be down shortly,” she told him, inviting him to sit beside her. “Come chat with me a few moments, Mr. Porter, there is so much to discuss.”

He sat, intrigued as she leaned in and popped open her fan to disguise her mouth and hide her words.

“Near the window, Mr. Porter. The gentleman with the sun-kissed hair. That is your Baron Broadspear. Do not look now but it seems that my plan is working perfectly. The Alphas all believe now that you have a secret. Please do smile and try to make it conspiratorial. They cannot stand a mystery, you know.”

It wasn't difficult to do as she asked and when she pulled away, they locked eyes for a moment and Bern couldn't help but give an amused little chuckle. She was certainly a character, that was for certain, and now it seemed as though all eyes were on him. Clearing his throat, he got up from the settee and was then bowing again when Lord Whilton—Miles Swophill—was announced and came to his wife's side.

“My Lord,” he greeted as he bowed. “It is an honor to be here.”

Whilton smiled up at him from the seat of his rather dashing wheelchair, his voice melodic and very much like an Alpha. “It's not often that I have many Betas to count among my acquaintances. Perhaps you would like to be introduced with some of my other guests?” He passed Bern a covert little wink and when Bern glanced quickly toward Lady Whilton, she was smiling at him knowingly. Oh yes, she had certainly pulled out all the stops on this little misadventure and Bern was going to owe her _big._

He was introduced to several titled Alphas, all of them staring at him curiously as they were convinced that there was a very delicate secret between he and the lady of the house—perhaps a not-so-secret affair which of course would be the most scandalous thing to happen in London for the year. No proper lady ever took a _Beta_ for a lover. Likely, however, they thought it some silly Beta-like thing that made no sense to them but even still it would be as irresistible as anything else. The hunt was on. He gave no hints as he had no hints to give and chatted pleasantly which each and every Alpha he was introduced to, the lot of them a mixture of Earls, Viscounts, and Barons. Broadspear was one of the last to meet him but when he did, he was clearly brimming with curiosity, leaning forward when Bern was introduced while his scent filled with interest. He was younger than Bern had thought he would be and he had a fair complexion to pair well with his blondish hair and pale blue eyes.

“Broadspear,” Whilton began, “this is my friend, Mr. Porter. He's a rather capable gentleman and I don't mind saying so. He reminds me of our dear Mr. Penberth in many ways, though not quite as tall.” He chuckled amicably. “Oh dear, it looks as though my wife is in need of me, I hope you do not mind entertaining my good friend here?”

Broadspear shook his head, “No, of course not. Cannot keep her Ladyship waiting, can we? How do you do, Mr. Porter? It is rather decent here, isn't it? Not enough Omegas, though. I daresay Lady Whilton may have had trouble finding some who were still straggling in town.” The Baron took a sip of his brandy. “Do you not have a drink? Here, let me fetch you one.”

Bern was going to protest but found a brandy in his hand faster than he could say anything at all, the Baron now distinctly pleased at his work. “Thank you, my Lord. Rather gracious of you. I do not find myself often waited upon by Alphas.”

“I don't suppose you find yourself at many Alpha parties.”

“No, I do not. My father was an Alpha though that privilege of his did not follow his money in my inheritance. I've been a staple at many Beta houses...”

“Ah yes, you must be Lady Whilton's guest then. She's a beauty, isn't she?”

“Far too tall for my tastes,” he mused, “and I don't mind saying so for she's already heard it from me before.”

He laughed, the sound low and rumbling and attention-drawing. “You must be good friends with her to be so candid in her own drawing room.”

He looked over at the Beta woman who cast him a sly glance in return. Lifting his glass to her slightly, he said loud enough for her to hear, “You're too tall, my Lady.”

Her laughter chimed through the room and she gave her amused retort: “I am already married, Mr. Porter, you cannot flirt with me now.”

Whilton sniffed into his glass and interjected, “You're right, Mr. Porter, but that's not the worst of it.” Smacked by her fan on his shoulder, he laughed and the room laughed with him, the small tension-breaker arriving just as it was announced that dinner was to be served.

Broadspear came to his elbow as they were ushered in, “A brilliant manner you have, Mr. Porter. You're a natural in the drawing rooms. You must be quite popular. Oh good, we will be seated near to each other. Wonderful, I must know if you are like other Betas, or more importantly like the honorable Mr. Penberth.”

“For most purposes, our temperaments are quite similar,” he assured the man.

“And bets, Mr. Porter? Do you often place them?”

His heart skipped a beat. “Not often, sir. Only when I am to be certain of my outcome. It would not do for a man like me to be fleeced of my inheritance when I've no net to catch me.”

“Like a title,” the Baron suggested aptly as they took their seats next to each other.

“Precisely.”

“Hmm...I see.”

Though Bern had been trying his best to set up a good moment for the Baron to suggest to him a “sure thing” investment, he didn't take the bait, instead turning to other subjects for a while and engaging the others around them in conversation. When his attentions turned elsewhere, Bern allowed it and played at aloofness, keeping himself quiet and unassuming until they were ushered back into the drawing room after supper. The doors to the outside were open and he stepped out onto the balcony in order to peer over the lit garden with a new brandy in his hand.

“Mr. Porter,” came the voice of one of the other Alphas—that of Lord Delevan who came to his side near the banister. “I've been meaning to get close to you all night. The Alphas have been abuzz about you. Pray tell me what it was that Lady Whilton told you behind her fan tonight. It's been eating me ever since.” His cheeks were a ruddy pink from the brandy and his tongue had certainly been loosened by it.

Bern chuckled. “Oh it was nothing. Just a little joke between us.”

“You know her well, then?”

“We ran in similar circles and danced quite a bit, but I would not say that we know each other overly.” He noted the way Delevan was minutely swaying and he almost wanted to reach out to steady the man. “I swear to you, sir, it was truly nothing. Merely a ploy to get the attention of curious Alphas.” There was no harm in being candid every so often and when one was faced with a pickled Alpha, one almost always had to tread closer to the truth. After all, plenty of them could smell lies.

“Balderdash.”

“I assure you, sir.” He was smiling now, unable to keep it hidden.

“Well who's actual attention were you trying to gain?”

“I'm afraid I can't say, my Lord. That is unless you might be able to help me.”

The man straightened himself up and stared at Bern intently through foggy eyes. “Help you with what?”

“I'm looking to be invited to a party.”

“Broadspear's party,” he mumbled. It wasn't a question. “You're certain you and the Lady aren't meeting in the bushes?”

“Gracious, no,” he laughed, a little louder than he intended. “As I said earlier to Broadspear and to the lady herself, she is far too tall.”

“Won't argue there. I can fair look her right in the eyes.” He looked around over his shoulder and into the room behind him. “Broadspear!” he barked and the man tipped out of the doorway and onto the balcony, his steps light and his young face intrigued. “I'm beginning to take a liking to this Beta gent. And you?”

Broadspear looked at Bern with a clear, sober gaze, and nodded lightly. “Yes, Delevan, I've taken a bit of a liking to him as well.”

“One night is hardly enough for me to have prodded at him.”

Interest along with intelligence flashed behind Broadspear's ice eyes and he studied Bern from his head to his feet. “You want me to bring him to the Manor then?”

“Yes, I do!” was his confident stance and he clumsily put his arm around Bern's slim shoulders, crushing him against his side. “A fine young man he'll be and a good rounding-out your party could use. The only Beta there, I imagine!”

“Unless Lady Whilton attends,” he provided. “Though the only Beta gent, surely.” He cast another stare over Bern and this time it was far more scrutinizing. It was clear that he wasn't certain how well such an invitation would go over among his friends who might see Bern as the upstart he was.

Still smashed against Delevan's side, he managed quietly, “It is amazing how easily you will forget I am even there, my Lord. I've no doubt your servants have the same unique power of invisibility.”

“Only when they wish it,” he said, his voice uncertain.

“Should you ever require my aloofness, you need only ask for it. I wouldn't like to be in the way of any Alpha frivolities.”

Delevan made a harsh scoff. “There is _no such thing_ as a party uniquely for Alphas! That's patently ridiculous!”

“Well,” Bern suggested, “perhaps what his Lordship is meaning is that such a get-together is meant to pair Alphas with the present Omegas...it can hardly be expected that a Beta girl will be invited and of course that is where my rightful place—”

“ _Patently ridiculous,_ ” he replied again with fervor. “Broadspear, give this man an invitation. He'll not be stealing any of your Omega guests' hearts, handsome devil that he is.”

“I do promise that,” he supplied, nearly suffocating in Delevan's crushing grip.

“Oh let the man go,” Broadspear relented, “he'll get an invite. It's at Broadspear Manor in Kent and I'll have a formal invitation sent to you on the morrow.”

Released from Delevan's drunken and punishing grip, he breathed freely and straightened his waistcoat prudently. “Thank you, my Lord. I look forward to attending.”

The Baron appeared still to be uncertain and almost nonplussed at being strong-armed by another Alpha, Delevan tossing about his weight as a Viscount and a prominent peer in procuring invitations to another man's party. Still, it settled Bern's quandary and he managed to relax for most of the rest of the evening, practicing his ability to sift in and out of the Alphas' perception as they continued on with the night's chatter and activities. The only gaze he seemed distinctly unable to shed was that of Lady Whilton who was careful to know exactly what was happening at any given moment. She approached him late in the evening as he was trying his best to become invisible in the corner of the room.

“I heard you managed to get your invitation,” she told him in a low tone. Despite her raucously scarlet gown, she as well was somehow able to discard all eyes to stand with him. “Are you content?”

“I am. I owe you, my Lady.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, noncommittal. “I think Miles and I will be obtaining invitations as well. I don't have to go but if you should need assistance, you should tell me now.”

“I won't.”

“Delevan let slip that you promised not to steal any of the Omegas present.”

He cursed lightly under his breath. “I've no intention of causing ripples. I can guarantee you, my Lady, I will not require any help.”

She stared at him silently, her gaze decidedly skeptical. When she lifted her sherry to her lips again she muttered softly, “My dear Mr. Porter, you are most deluded.”

His jaw swung open and just as he was about to come up with a witty reply, she left his side, allowing him only to stand there with a half-formed retort dangling from his open mouth. As he snapped it shut in indignation he thought crossly, _I should make you eat those words, madam. Damned Idlewinds, even the Betas are more arrogant than they are handsome. We'll see about all these delusions I have. Perhaps I will manage to steal an Omega...how about that!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Up Next:** Sophie.
> 
> I really really like her, I hope everyone else does too.


	3. Chapter 3

Kerridan's voice was silky and only a tad bit melancholic which was why Sophie loved it so much when he would read to her. She had, in the past, had plenty of people read to her but there was nothing quite like the deep timbre and slight hidden sadness that came only from the vocal chords of a Beta man. According to her brother, having a man read to her and be alone with her even if they were a servant was ridiculous, but at her advanced age—the _old_ age of thirty—she didn't much think it was all that much of a risk. Not that Kerridan thought of her as anything more than his master's sister and perhaps sometimes even like his own. No one else would do for the task, at least no one that worked at the Manor. The Omegas all had a spice to their voice and they often were far too engaged with the text. Sometimes she would have to remind them to keep reading as they would become so focused that they would forget to speak aloud. Alphas were even worse, becoming bored too quickly and coming at the text as though they were trying to barrel through it, their harsh and edgy tones far too brassy for her sensitive ears anyhow. No—Beta men were _perfect_ for the task, mild, studious, and pleasant.

There was a gentle knock on the door and Kerridan paused in the middle of _Macbeth_ just as Duncan had been stabbed.

“Come in,” Sophie relented. She had heard Macbeth plenty of times but truly, once the king was stabbed, it was impossible to put it down. Smoothing her skirts, she heard the door open and the familiar voice of Mrs. Chester, the housekeeper.

“Pardon, don't mean to disturb you mum, but we've a bit of a situation.” She shuffled into the room, her skirts ruffling around her.

Sophie frowned a slight bit. “A situation?”

“I wouldn't bother you about it if it weren't serious, mum. But you know hows the chimney needed to be cleaned out and his lordship wished it done before 'is party?”

“Yes.” She heard Kerridan gently close the play and her heart skipped. The scent of the older Omega as it reached her was tense and uncertain and there was a waver just under the planes of her voice that betrayed her. Something was horribly wrong. “Please, Mrs. Chester, don't keep me in suspense. What's this that's gone wrong?”

“The poor dear,” she replied, her voice wavering even harder now. “'E's stuck in the chimney.”

“Pardon,” Sophie murmured, “Who?”

“The poor lil soul the sweep sent up to clear it out. He can't be more than five or six...the lil dear...” The waver in her voice cracked into a broken sob and her scent became rife with a foul sort of must.

“Oh dear me, do take a seat here Mrs. Chester. Which room was it?”

“The...the far parlor...”

Sophie got up, shaking out her simple skirts. “Come, Kerridan.” She walked with surety, counting her steps and reaching out to follow the door frame out into the hall. She knew this house well enough to navigate without much effort whatsoever and it was a clear rule that no furniture was ever to be misplaced or rearranged without her explicit instruction. After all, for Sophie, a stray settee was likely to give her quite the bruise as she strode with as much confidence as a strutting goose.

Of course, she could imagine what the house looked like. After all, she hadn't lost her sight until she was around eight years old—a particularly nasty case of the measles had seen to that. She had lived here long enough to remember that the far parlor was blue and used to be called the “blue parlor” until the servants decided among themselves not to refer to it by color and to use a more apt description. It was unnecessary though she supposed if they ever wanted to change the wallpaper, it would be much easier for everyone involved.

She could feel Kerridan behind her, stoic and ready for anything that was thrown at him. He was behind her when she opened the door to the far parlor and the scent of soot caught her strong in her nose. She entered fearlessly and the acrid scent of an Alpha fought its way through the blackened smell of dirty chimney.

“My Lady,” came a harsh, scratching voice. The Master Sweep.

“Ah,” she said calmly, “you must be the boy's master. I am Lady Sophia Nolan.” She did not offer her hand. “I understand that he is stuck in the chimney.”

He cleared his throat, clearly still studying her. “Ehn...yeh. Lazy little blighter got 'imsel' trapped but good. Let 'is bum sink and now 'is knees are up. Can't do much with 'im.”

“How far is he?”

“Practically jus' been started,” he grumbled, his scent spicing with his frustration. “If the flue was wide 'nough, I could prolly jus' yank 'im on out but my sweepin' days was done a long time ago.”

“The flue is extremely narrow,” Sophie mused. “Is he still alive?”

“So far, he is,” he mumbled. “No tellin' how much time 'e's got. Bloody fool's been knocking about and sends the soot down o'er 'imsel'. Could have jus' minutes.”

“Then I bid you to excuse me while I ponder the issue.”

“Excuse me, mum?”

“A moment with my servants, Sir Master Sweep. Please.”

There was a pause before he mumbled unhappily, “Well a'right...whatever ye wish of me, mum.”

Sophie waited until she heard the click of the door before she chirped, “Kerridan?”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“Down to my chemise, no time to waste. Mrs. Chester? Please remove anything from the hearth that could hurt if fallen upon. And both of you...not a word to Emmett.”

Kerridan's voice was low even as he helped her undress. “You can't intend to climb up the chimney.”

“That is exactly what I intend. He said the boy wasn't far up at all and if the issue is just that his backside has slid and his knees are up then that should mean that he isn't caught at an angle of the flue. If I can just get one of his feet down then he could be able to wriggle free.”

Mrs. Chester was near to the hearth, the sound of bristles sweeping over stone marking her work. “It's all well and good talkin' about it, my Lady, but you crawlin' into that nasty flue is going to be givin' me nightmares. What if you get stuck as well? Your brother will have our heads.”

“None of that, I won't get stuck.” When she was free of her gown and left in naught but her chemise and drawers, she pulled up the fabric and knotted it to the side of her thigh so that her knees were exposed and made her way to the stone hearth. Stepping up, it was cold against her feet and the soot and ash was acrid and smokey even as it was soft between her toes. She ducked herself into the hearth and felt upwards, measuring the space that she would have to climb. “Kerridan?” she asked and she felt him near, “Perhaps a bit of a boost?”

“Are you certain you'll fit?” he asked as he deftly lifted her.

“As long as my shoulders will fit,” she told him, squeezing herself together as much as possible until he had lifted her enough so that her hands, back, and knees could find purchase in the narrow passage. It was stifling, that was for certain, she could feel her breath coming back at her and the small tickling flecks of soot which came down from above. “Can you hear me, little one?” she called upward.

Muffled but close she heard clearly, “ _Yes mum! Help meh! I'm stook!_ ” His voice was filled with tears and she could hear the edge of panic taking him.

“Calm yourself, little one, I'm coming to get you unstuck. Don't wriggle about too much or you might get yourself wedged in that much worse. How far are you?”

“Only a few feet, mum!”

She used her leverage with her back to push her elbows against the sides of the flue and inch her way up. Her knees sparked with pain as they took the brunt of her weight and she sought to get them as far apart as she could, though that was not very far at all when it came down to it. Inching up bit by bit, she reached up periodically to see how far she was from the boy. Only when she had climbed perhaps four to five feet up did she reach up to brush his small bum with her fingers.

“Oh dear,” she giggled, 'are you nude?”

“Yes, mum,” he sobbed. “Is for the job...”

“Well alright, let me see about your feet here. I'm terribly sorry if I do happen across bits of you that I ought not to. I cannot see, you understand.”

“Tis verra dark in here, mum,” he sniffed.

She reached about until she found one of his feet, wedged hard against his thigh. When she found the other, it was in an even worse predicament. Climbing as close to him as she dared, she planted her knees and her feet to give herself as much leverage as she could manage. “Darling? I'm going to lift up your bum if I can manage it and you've got to try to wriggle up for me. I can't pull your legs out but I think I can lift you if you help me.”

“I will 'elp yeh, mum. Please, please get me outta'ere!”

She took both of her arms and pressed her palms flat on his rump, pushing up with all of her might as her knees took on the weight not only of herself but of him as well. She pushed hard, her throat giving way to a grunt of strain before she felt his body move upward and the tension around him loosen.

“Oh mum! Ye've done it! Oh lordy, thank ye!”

“Now come down from in there,” she insisted, sneezing a few times from the soot that came down from around him.

“Mum, I promise, I won' get stook again!”

“Please come down, little one. I don't really care for the idea of a child in my chimney working himself in such conditions. It's not fit for man nor beast in here.”

He began to weep fitfully.

“Do not cry, little pup, your fate will be bright, I assure you. I am the lady of this house, after all.”

He sniffled and gulped. “The...the lady of the house?! I thought you was...I thought you was a—!”

She giggled. “No. Now come down after me. I've something serious to discuss with you.” She eased her way down until she felt Kerridan's strong grip on her calf and she allowed him to guide her down until he could place an arm about her waist. For many, it would be unheard of for a servant and a man to handle them so but being at her advanced age for a young woman and that she and Kerridan had a special sort of sibling-like affection, she did not even bat an eyelash at his familiarity. He swept her to the carpet and fretted over her until she swatted him away and asked after the boy who had come down as well.

“He's here, my Lady,” Mrs. Chester told her.

“Good. If his clothes are about, I suppose he'll need them. Little one, do you know how much your master paid for you?”

Distractedly, he chirped, “Paid me mum a whole three sovereigns for me, 'e did!”

“Gracious, only that?” she murmured softly. “Well then, I will tell your master that I will pay him a whole four sovereigns and you can come work for my groundskeeper. We'll have you out in the sun though I suppose sometimes just as dirty...though it will be a good clean sort of dirt.”

There was a long pause. “Work 'ere?”

“Yes. Please tell me that such a thing is agreeable.”

“I...wouldn' 'ave to...get the spoon, would I?”

Sophie puzzled a bit over this expression until Mrs. Chester put it another way. “I think what the pup is meaning is that he's worried about being beaten with...well, a wooden spoon.”

Alarmed, Sophie sputtered, “Oh?! No! Absolutely not. I'll spoon the grounds keeper myself should I come to learn he's harmed you.”

He seemed to think. “You really _can't_ see, can you, mum?”

“Watch yourself, pup,” Kerridan warned.

“It's alright, Kerridan, no, I can't see. But one did not have to see in the dark of a chimney in order to save your little rump, did one?” She rubbed at her elbows absently, feeling the rough patches of her flesh where she had scraped the sides of the flue. “Now, tell me that you'll agree to my purchase of you and then what's left is the negotiations with your master.”

“Well...alright. But only if I get me own bed.”

“Done,” she stated quickly. He'd no need to know that he was to get his own bed regardless. “Mrs. Chester? Will you install the Master Sweep in the downstairs drawing room while Kerridan and I get me cleaned and dressed?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Kerridan was a strict Beta when it came to having Sophie presentable and so she was not let down into the first floor drawing room until she was perfectly cleaned, dressed, and coiffed. With a straight back, she descended the stairs and counted her steps into the drawing room where she then found her way to her settee and sat.

“Master Sweep? What is your name, sir?”

His voice came from near to the window, still rasping and harsh. “Trundhill, m—... _my Lady_.”

“Mr. Trundhill, I have come to understand that you purchased the lad from his mother for three sovereigns. That's quite a bit of money for a boy in your line of work.”

He cleared his throat. “He's small for his age. He'd be able to work for a long time. Especially if he presented as an Omega. His line is filled with 'em.”

“Then I will give you four sovereigns to take him from you.”

He cleared his throat again, obviously shocked by her offer. His Alpha scent was coated in soot but still burning and nearly eye-watering. His response was calm and flat. “He has caused me much trouble, and you as well. I assume you got him out of your chimney.”

“I did.”

“Seven, my Lady.”

“Four, Mr. Trundhill. I was very clear.”

“You're a sweet little Omega. I know you want to do right by him. Seven and you can do whatever right you will by him.”

“Four, Mr. Trundhill. I have only so much pin money and he is clearly not as good to you as you wish him to be. If your choice is to take him and beat him for becoming trapped in my chimney then you should take the four and be lucky I did not simply hire a man to steal him from you.”

He growled. “I will not be threatened by a primped little blind _coquette_ who hides away in her lover's manor with his money. _Seven pounds_.”

“I suppose then that you would rather be threatened by my _brother_ instead?”

He was quiet, his scent muddling through a myriad of emotions. He was not a particularly intelligent man so it was only that he had not made the connection that Sophie was in fact the Baron's sister. The revelation seemed to hit him rather hard.

“Four, Mr. Trundhill,” she repeated. “Four pounds and I won't have you thrown out on your ear for calling me a _coquette_.” Her voice was steady and her scent betrayed no fear. What was she to fear anyhow? She imagined him trembling with his revelation and perhaps that sweet and sour tang of his frustration. He would take four pounds.

“F-fine then. Four.”

“Grand. I will have Mrs. Chester handle your pay.” She stood up and counted her way to the door where Kerridan was still standing, his mild Beta scent enraged by the way the sweep had spoken to her. “Good day, Mr. Trundhill.” She left and felt Kerridan come with her. Halfway down the hall she spoke to him. “Thank you Kerridan. For not interfering.”

“T'was your battle, my Lady. Not mine.” His voice, even now, quivered with his anger.

“I am lucky to have you. Now...back to Macbeth? Should that calm you? Or perhaps a walk around the gardens?”

Kerridan gave a small puff of appreciation through his nose. “Perhaps the garden. Should your brother be keen to tuck you away for the duration of his party then we shall have all the time in the world to read and so little to wander among the flowers.”

“True. They do seem to be terribly hard on my lovely little dears, don't they?”

She put her hand out and Kerridan gently took it, threading it through his arm so that she might be guided by him toward the outside. The flowers were lovely this time of year—every scent of them conjuring a different memory for her—and most of them happy. Sophie felt a tiny squeeze in her heart and her hand tightened just a smidge on Kerridan's arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila! Sophie! She's wonderful and my baby and I love her very, very much. If Bernard Porter does a single thing to her to make her sad, I'm going to beat him. (Or Sophie is. ;3)
> 
> I know I'm really playing with fire here doing M/F Beta/Omega. Really doubling down on the "not-widely-read" spectrum but hey, "rare" dynamic and gender combinations are totally where it's at. So if you're reading this, please accept my humble thanks.


	4. Chapter 4

Bern fretted even as the carriage was rolling along the stone paved drive to Broadspear Manor. When he got out, he addressed Urwin who had insisted upon coming with him though more for appearances than much else. “Are you certain the house will do without you?”

“Miss Nettie is very capable, as you know, she'll not allow the eaves to come falling down, sir. Aside, from the look of you, you may need me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he grumbled, straightening his waistcoat and giving a placating smile toward the servants who came to help Urwin and the driver with his luggage. He was never given answer and was shuffled off to be shown to his room. Expecting to be tossed into one of the smaller more out of the way locations, he was surprised to find himself placed in a room with a fairly accessible location that was in no way small and likely was just as prominent as the rest of the guest chambers. It was stylized in a modern fashion with everything he could ever need and it was obvious that Broadspear spared no expense—perhaps one of the reasons that it was rumored that he was dependent upon the grace of his creditors of late.

Opting not to take a small rest, he left the chamber after changing into a fresh set of clothes and took to admiring the architecture—or at least, that was what it seemed like he was doing. In fact, he was mapping out the layout of the house. The entrance had been rather grand and the manor itself splayed out to the east and west in two great wings. Most of the guest chambers were on the upper portions of the two wings which were accessible by a grand staircase which one met as one entered the Manor. Bern's own room was in the west wing—an area that he was glad for since he was much like other Betas in that he enjoyed sleeping late in the morning and staying up deep into the night. He took stock of which doors led to where and was pleased to find that there were not too many that did not make sense, which there seemed to be in quite a few of the old halls of the peerage.

Peeking into small parlors, he smiled at their stylish charm and he made certain to make himself as invisible as possible when he crept about the areas in which he was certain to find the Baron's study. He was almost certain that he was getting close when he was deep within the halls of the east wing and he carefully studied the portraits on that particular hall's wall. A Beta servant was passing him as he stared upward and Bern cursed inwardly when the man paused.

“Can I direct you somewhere, sir?”

 _Drat._ He turned about to face the man of equal height and slender build and regarded him with a practiced ease. “Oh no, I was merely acquainting myself with the Broadspears of old. A rather distinguished lot.”

“Yes,” the man stated warily, his eyes sharp. “The other active guests are on the lawn.”

“Bah,” he puffed dismissively. “Alphas.”

It was that which gave the servant some ease at least and his posture grew a small bit more lax in his understanding. “Very well, sir. Should you need me, I am Kerridan.”

“Thank you, Kerridan. I will remember.”

Left alone once more, he was made distinctly uneasy, as though he knew for certain that somehow he were being watched. That Kerridan was to be an annoyance, he knew, for the man was certainly as shrewd as Urwin when it came to wandering guests. He cast one more cursory glance down that dim hall and then walked off purposefully toward the terrace but he did not emerge from the doors leading out and merely stood by them as they were open to allow for the fresh late summer breeze to wash out the innards of the house.

“Porter!” came a loud, boisterous voice and he cringed despite the attempt to hide his immediate reactions. Lord Delevan came to him and picked up a brandy from one of the wandering trays to give to him, happy as he could be when the Beta accepted the glass. “It's wonderful to see you here, I was almost expecting you to pass on the invitation! Some of the Omegas are here, if you haven't noticed them yet, perhaps you'll try your hand?”

“I do believe I'd made a promise to Broadspear that I would not be inclined to steal any of your Omegas...not that they've a mind to be stolen by the likes of me anyhow.” _Though if it were to throw Lady Whilton's expectations into disarray, I may indeed try my hand._ “I've hardly anything they could want.”

“Nonsense,” Delevan told him, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I've got it straight from the little Lady Helen that her family is quite in need of a man with some good prospects and you, sir, fit that bill rather nicely. I've heard you're well-off.”

“I'm comfortable,” he warily agreed. “Though there are plenty of Alphas about who are just as comfortable financially as I am.”

“Ah but little Lady Helen's family has been marred by scandal. Her elder sister ran off to the country with some regimental chap and was found to have given it up quite readily without even bothering to demand a bite from the lad. She'll be hard pressed to find an Alpha here with the patience to be tied to such a family.”

That Delevan clearly thought him loose enough and desperate enough to capture an Omega who'd been subjected to such scandal made him heat a bit under his collar with his indignant ire. The man was impertinent and yet his station clearly made it impossible for Bern to reprimand him in the manner in which he wished. Unfortunately, he didn't manage to extract himself from the overbearing Alpha until he'd been herded like an unwitting sheep from the doorway to the terrace and by then the man had egregiously overstepped his bounds by calling the girl and her chaperone over to them.

“Little Lady Helen, how shockingly becoming you are in _pink_ ,” Delevan puffed and preened, kissing the girl's gloved fingers before he turned to Bern and cleared his throat. “My Lady, this is Mr. Porter.”

She offered him her hand and he kissed it dutifully and gave her a curt, professional bow that seemed to irk Delevan for its lack of romance. She eyed him curiously. “I admit, I have little experience with these parties but I was under the impression that...” She cut off, seeming to recognize that what she was about to say could have been construed as rude. “Well, no matter...it is nice to meet you, Mr. Porter.”

“Likewise, my Lady.”

Delevan cut in quickly, “Many apologies, my lovies, it seems I'm needed elsewhere. Be sure to be good to her, Porter, lest I find you later and give you what for.”

He almost said something but caught himself at the very last when Lady Helen's chaperone, a rather severe-looking aunt, stared at him with something akin to disgust. Instead, he blinked a bit and let out a simple sigh, hoping that his chatter with Lady Helen wouldn't bring any unwanted attention. “Well then...” he began.

“Should you fancy a little walk around the garden, Mr. Porter?” she asked boldly, puffing out her chest a bit like some sort of fluffed up bird. The gown she wore was distinctly revealing—a style that was more suited toward a woman of questionable means rather than a dutiful young lady. And _pink_ , of all colors. Bern thought he should have been scandalized and yet his eyes dipped to the young lady's bodice without a modicum of shame, finding the tops of her breasts quite attractive indeed.

He cleared his throat, not daring to cast a glance to her chaperone. “Of-Of course, if that is what the lady wishes.”

“It is,” she declared, “What I wish, I mean. You will excuse us, Aunt Aggie, I've simply got to get my head clear.”

She took his arm rather forcefully and made off with him, striding with short though confident steps toward the stone garden path where the catmint and hollyhocks could seclude them from wandering eyes. The winding path eventually would pass by a rather well-known white marble folly which had, of course, seen its fair share of trysts. So much so that even Bern had heard of its career as a meeting place for illicit lovers. “You cannot conceive it at all, Mr. Porter!”

“I should say not.”

“That I should even have a chaperone at all by now is ridiculous. What do they think I am? If they do not believe at all by now that we are all fallen women then they are patently absurd. Look at me.” She turned to him suddenly and it was all he could do to stop short fast enough not to bump straight into her. “I'm in pink. I've practically got everything on display. But they give me to _you_.”

“I take it you're looking to become a kept woman.”

Her cheeks grew several shades redder than they already were and she hissed at him. “Don't say such things. I can't stand to hear it from your voice. It's as if you've not a single shred of humanity.”

“I apologize, my Lady.”

“Don't do that either.” She sulked. “My sister has damned us all and I'm left to pick up all the pieces and somehow transform myself into some kind of courtesan!”

“I'm not certain as to why you're telling this to me.”

She gave him a wide-eyed stare as though it should have been entirely obvious. “Because you're not _one of them_.”

“I assure you, my Lady, my lack of a title is not indicative of a name not drawn long into England's wealthy class.”

“But you're a Beta, that's what I mean. You know what I'm about.” She dragged him further along until they had to duck through some hanging wisteria, concealed a little more by the foliage. “You're not out to bed me are you, Mr. Porter? No, you seem like a rational gent. I'd like to practice with you, if you wouldn't mind.”

His brain began a strange, high-pitched buzzing sound. “Ex-excuse me...what?”

“Practice. Alright, you stand there and make yourself look haughty like those damned Alphas do.”

Bern, unable to process what exactly was happening at the moment, stood rather like a stick in the mud, staring at this odd little morsel of an Omega who picked up her skirts and moved away from him a few steps before she dramatically peeked over her shoulder, her generous hip popping out to the side as her gown formed over it.

“How is this? Do you think they'll drool over me if I give myself this sort of sensuous appeal? I have to be _mysterious_ , Mr. Porter. Have I done it?”

He couldn't speak for a few moments, staring at her curves in utter confusion. This had taken the most bizarre turn, he decided, unable to figure whether he would have preferred her to be practicing her kissing with him like he'd thought. This certainly would not do at all. If he was supposed to be keeping himself from the attentions of Omegas, helping one of them clumsily work her way into becoming some sort of high-class prostitute was certainly not going be the way about it. “My Lady, I really don't believe you'll be driven to this occupation. Certainly you'll find yourself a kind Alpha gent who'll find you attractive and appropriate—”

“For coming from a family steeped heavily in aristocracy, you seem out of touch, Mr. Porter,” she told him, facing him fully this time and giving him a sultry look from half-lidded eyes. “My sister has shamed my family. I'm constantly berated by everyone, looked upon as prey by Alphas, and denied invitations to all the decent parties. I'll never have a husband at this rate and I'll die before I manage to find a lover if I don't take things into my own hands. I'll be damned if I'll find myself alone for my heats.”

“You've a rather interesting vocabulary for a well-bred young lady.”

She ignored him. “Tell me I'm pretty.”

“You're pretty.”

Lady Helen grasped his arm and half-dragged him to the folly which stood solidly in the midst of the lush garden, only two openings accessible as the rest of the inside was covered in a thin silk sheet to cut out the late sunshine.

“My Lady, we could have been seen.”

“My reputation does not require your assistance, Mr. Porter. I'm only here because the Alphas find me sporting.”

“I'm not particularly fond of many sports.”

“Kiss me, Mr. Porter.”

“Oh dear.” With some effort he managed to pull her hands from his jacket and he did the only thing that he could think to do—he ran. Flushed and heartily embarrassed, he awkwardly darted through the garden and slowed his pace only a little as he crossed the lawn toward Delevan, attempting to smoothly come to the man's shoulder even as his heart beat hard in his chest.

“Oh, Porter,” Delevan grinned. “You smell like something's put you off. I hope you've not got cold feet when it comes to that delectable creature. In pink, even. Hah!”

“Pink or not,” he breathed, “she's a fiery little devil. Please, Delevan, you cannot expect me to court her.”

“Court her? Are you daft, Beta? She's not here to get courted. She's hear to get—” He paused, studying Bern's expression. “Good god, man. Omegas don't get invited to Broadspear's so they can find marriage-minded men. That's only what their chaperones are meant to think—not _us._ ”

Bern nearly lost his breath. “You cannot mean that all of these Omegas are meant for _trysting_.”

“That's exactly what I mean.”

“That is entirely ungentlemanly.”

“What do you _Betas_ do at the end of the season?”

Flustered, he stammered out, “W-Well we have little out of the way parties...like this...b-but...”

“Ah,” Delevan smirked, “Without the desperate little Omegas. How oddly sweet of you all. Must be a very _Beta_ thing to do...brush off the dust of the season...how very civilized. It almost makes me wish I could attend.” He passed Bern his full and untouched glass of claret. “Bolster yourself, man, you'll be fighting them off left and right. They'll hear of how you managed to escape Lady Helen foisting herself upon you and they'll be at you like wolves trying to find out what makes you so picky.”

“That is _not_ why I came here,” he breathed, taking a hard gulp of the drink in his hand.

“Ah yes, you came here to rub your elbows among the lords. If you're looking for investments, you may chat with Broadspear but don't get your hopes up—he's been very secretive about the latest thing he's been dumping his money into and I'd keep a wary eye out. The man's lost quite a bit of his inheritance over the years.”

Bern emptied the glass. “You've heard of his latest venture?”

“Sure, but he's been keeping it hushed up. Poorly, I might add. It's almost as if he's doing it on purpose in order to raise interest. Something about letters to a man about a mine or something in Africa. God help anyone who's mad enough to invest in that mess, I tell you.”

“Africa, you say?” Bern asked, his empty glass replaced with a full one by an attentive servant. He feigned his affect, assuming a perfectly bored-sounding tone. “An awful place, I've heard.”

“So I've heard as well but damned useful for trade, apparently. Anyone who's put their money into the right place down there ought to make a killing—that is, if their bridges and mines aren't torn straight out of their hands by local uprisings or...or _disease_.”

“Oh yes,” Bern mused, hoping his scent didn't give away his interest in the subject. “I've heard the sicknesses there could turn anyone's stomach.”

“And turn away investors,” Delevan replied. “Most men who place their wagers there never see the damned mines to know whether or not what they're getting is legitimate. After all, who would want to after hearing tales of black vomit and fatal fevers?”

“The riches are unheard of,” Bern supplied, “Perhaps they consider it worth the risk.”

Delevan merely grunted at that before his eyes lit up. “Ah, the woman who would seek to conquer you has her eyes set, it seems. If you're game for it, Porter, you'll scamper off and let her find you to punish you.”

“ _I beg your pardon?_ ”

“Lord, you are repressed. Run off, Porter, I'll tell her she might find you in your chambers and if you're lucky, she might only nick you with her teeth once or twice.”

He didn't have to be told twice to run though it was not to his chambers. This whole afternoon and evening was going to be a hell of an experience and he could tell simply by the smallest bit of conversation. At least now he knew a little of what he was to be looking for and with that small tidbit of information, he could sift through the man's study to see if there was any sort of incrimination correspondence. Even still, there was nothing to suggest that the man was _actively_ trying to dupe a plethora of his acquaintances, though such things normally did not begin conversations or relationships. If Bern was to be invited into an allegedly promising business deal, he had to remain cozy with the man himself. Which meant _not_ engaging with any of the attending Omegas.

Keeping a sharp eye out for Kerridan, that snoopy Beta servant, he moved with surprising quickness through the house, avoiding the eyes of the other guests and the wandering maids in order to slip into the quiet halls. Peeping into the rooms he had bypassed earlier, he found the study in that out-of-the-way segment of the house and was pleased to note that the fire was crackling in the hearth and that the gilded grate was open to allow for the heated air to move into the room. Without a backward glance, Bern gently clicked the door shut behind him and made for the large cherry wood desk, heartened by its unkempt appearance and the letters strewn over the blotter.

“ _Wonderful_ ,” he whispered to himself, easing behind the desk to study the spidery scrawl. He leafed through the parchment, taking only seconds to pause in order to read what was written. He was nearly done when he smelled it. Originally, it had seemed only a background to the scent of the room, only an underlying sweet tone in a layer of masculine Alpha fragrance. As he stood there longer, however, there was an independence to it and he suddenly had the oddest notion that perhaps he was not alone—that perhaps he had managed to stumble upon a tryst occurring _right in this very room._ His ears pricked up even before he brought his gaze up. Mortified, he was certain that he was going to find himself staring straight at a half-dressed couple or an abandoned Omega he had neglected to notice in his excitement at finding the study and possible evidence of illicit business affairs.

 _Oh my god,_ he thought sourly, closing his eyes as if it could save him from his embarrassment. _I can smell her fear. She thinks she's been caught._ He gave a soft sigh and determined that if it was all an utter failure, at least Wagner would never bother him to play spy ever again. Preparing mentally to explain himself, he finally brought his head up, his words dying in his mouth when he was faced with an Omega he had never seen before—one he was certain he would have remembered for her glinting honey blonde hair and classically beautiful face. Her clear pale blue eyes were on him and yet...it was as though she peered _through_ him rather than _at_ him, her gaze unfocused though alert. _She's blind,_ he thought stupidly, holding himself quite still so that he wouldn't make another sound. It was for naught after all, for at length she did speak to him, her voice small though her words brave indeed.

“ _Do not think to touch me sir, or I shall have your head._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out, Bernard, she'll wreck you.


	5. Chapter 5

He was young, she decided. His scent was mild much as any Beta's but it had a body to it that was not unlike that of Kerridan and the other similarly aged Beta servants in the household. There was more to it, of course, and she was almost certain that he must have been one of the servants that had come to work under the stairs as their Alpha masters came for the gathering. That, however, she tumbled over in her mind in the few seconds she had. He had faint traces of other scents upon him—those of Alphas mostly and only that which could have been gained should he have been in proximity to them. He must have been close to those wandering about but the only servants there were those serving the cocktails and the sherry—and she knew all of them! No servant was ever hired who did not pass through Sophie's acquaintance.

_Was he a guest?_

She was trembling, sitting in her chair and waiting for him to say something, anything really. He had come into the room with a clear intent and his scent, though soft, was clearly displaying his irritation and then his gentle triumph—that is, until he saw her. She knew immediately when it had happened for he had frozen completely, all sounds of his shuffling through papers ceasing quickly and his scent souring to a shriveled bit of dry frustration. It was this that had alarmed her. A man who was just caught in the act of rifling through another man's personal affects could be capable of anything—and there was no man who rifled through her brother's private study who was not certainly a villain.

Her words, delivered into the warm, still air of the study hung oppressively around them and she certainly expected him to say something or even for him to accost her. She was hardly a decent witness to anything—she couldn't tell what he could have been searching for though she could certainly tell that he had been in the room with her. She could even identify him—though perhaps he didn't know that she had scented him and that her scent memory was in all ways impeccable. No. He couldn't know.

She knew immediately when he moved, his weight shifting on the carpet over the wooden floor and causing an almost imperceptible creaking sound that she heard clear as a songbird on a winter morning. She stiffened considerably, her ears trained for any sound he might make, any words he might speak. There were none. He gave a short sigh instead, almost like a huff of impatience before she heard him quickly move toward the door and leave empty-handed.

Indignant, she felt as though he had only seemed the slightest bit _inconvenienced_ by her presence there and was not in any way at all scandalized by having been caught by her. As though Sophie herself were a _nonperson._

_How dare he?!_ She thought raggedly, standing up from her chair and still trembling though not from fear this time but from a bit of her anger that lit her blood. “That scheming devil,” she muttered, her face toward the door as though she might have been able to sense him should he come back to it. She would most certainly be able to recognize his scent but with this damned party going on, how was she to find justice for her brother's peace? If he had the gumption now to test the waters of privacy, he would have the gall to later complete whatever dastardly plot he had come to this party with.

The villain would have to be stopped, she determined quickly, and most certainly she would have to somehow warn her brother that was some demon in his own house out to ruin him somehow. But ruin him how? Emmett was a loving and doting brother, going out of his way to find her favorite treats. He took her on walks upon his arm, let her in his study at all hours of the day even while he was doing his work. He told her constantly how her presence reminded him of a certain sort of solemnity that he thought was necessary for halting the brashness of a single man's life. A poetic spirit though the sort to have his boyish—rakish—fun, Sophie couldn't imagine what in the world someone could find against him.

A woman, perhaps? This was most certainly a possibility. There were plenty of young women who had thought themselves victims of her brother's charms and sought to find any way to marry him. She could not often discern if this was due to his philandering or merely because they found him fascinating and wealthy enough to pluck up off the marriage mart.

_Probably a woman_ , she decided. It would be difficult to investigate. Emmett didn't often let her mingle with this sort of crowd—their lewdness often apparent as Sophie sifted undetected through the house at night as she needed no lamps to guide her. She was rather good at being stealthy, she thought smugly to herself. Perhaps there was a way to solve this mystery without having to go very far out of her way at all.

Her first order of business was the easiest. She left the study and made her way to her chambers, locking the door behind her so that only Kerridan could enter with his own key. For a while, she paced, thinking of any way that she might find this villain and after she found him, what she might do with him.

_Well,_ she thought simply, _he will have to be interrogated._ With that thought in mind, she felt through her wardrobe until she found the simple leather straps that were fitted to her bed during her heats and she very carefully installed them herself. If she was going to speak to this man, whomever he ended up being, she would need him to be still. And if he should not wish to talk? She fumbled through her things that had been meticulously put away by Kerridan's doing and found the crop that matched with her riding habit. It was nigh unheard of for a lady to have such devious thought, she admitted to herself, but the man would simply have to answer for what he'd done. Snooping about a man's private affairs was certainly not something that deserved anything less than a good few waps. Aside, she thought, it would likely not come to that—a servant would no doubt give up plenty of information on his mistress if it meant forgoing such humiliation.

_But how to get him to the bed?_

Seduction? Teasing? Brute strength? If it were the latter, she would certainly need Kerridan's help but the man would do anything she asked, wouldn't he? The sound of the key turning in the lock reminded her that she would be able to find out right this instant.

“Kerridan?” she asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Yes, my Lady.”

“You've been my accomplice for several clandestine adventures about this old house.”

“Yes...” His voice was soft and as yet still wary. It was likely that he had noticed the riding crop upon the bedside table and that her restraints were attached to her bed.

“I've witnessed a scoundrel digging through Emmett's desk in his study this evening and I want to get to the bottom of that little mystery.”

Kerridan must have been used to this. After all, Sophie thought, she was constantly into something or another and one scheme was much like any other after a while. Though this one was, at the heart of it, a kidnapping. His voice was exceedingly calm. “You want to find him and strap him to your bed? Goodness, I can't imagine what sort of handsome lad would have fascinated you so much.”

Sophie gasped in her laughter. “How dare you tease me, you horrible man.”

His voice was full of humor now. “How do you expect us to capture some rogue who decided to peruse your brother's papers? If he was a guest—”

“I think he's a servant.” She heard the gentle rattle of the tea tray and held her hands out for a cup, finding one ready for her quickly. “He was a Beta man, young as you or I, and I'd recognize his scent again immediately.”

Kerridan was silent for a few moments. “Did you hear his voice?”

“He only sighed at me when I addressed him...though I was not as polite as I could have been. He shocked me was all.”

“No one could blame you. Before we strap this man down upon your bed and beat the truth out of him, why don't we try a few more conventional means?”

Sophie pouted. “You're always the boring one, aren't you Kerridan?”

“That does seem to be the nature of things, my Lady.” He chuckled. “How about I set about discreetly speaking to the servants under the stairs to see if they have anything to say about it? Then we won't have a distraught guest on our hands when they come to find that we've abducted their valet to thrash him for snooping.”

She huffed. “I've the idea that it could have been a servant searching through his things to find something to help his mistress take him as her husband.”

Kerridan seemed to contemplate the merits of her idea before he murmured back, “I've some suspicions myself, my Lady, though they are not quite as charitable as yours.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is nothing. I will come back to you with news from the servants and we can take your plan into consideration should I find nothing we can use otherwise. Please do not put yourself into any danger, my Lady. I could not bear it if you should come across some blackguard who managed to steal into the house.”

Sophie made a small puff through her teeth. “Obviously he is some blackguard already but if he were to harm me, perhaps he would have already done so. He obviously has not found enough of what he needs or has not put the rest of his plan into motion. Else he may have harmed me upon our first meeting.”

Kerridan's scent was muddled. “Hmm. Well I don't want to hear about you sneaking around tonight. I've enough to worry about with all the guests around trying to whisk themselves off for a tryst.”

She felt her cheeks grow red. Sophie had bore witness to several trysts in the wee hours of the morning during these infamous parties though she had never been in one herself. Often she wondered what in the world it was that made ladies so open to having a smelly Alpha corner them and crowd them and touch them all over. Quite frankly, she considered it rather boarish of them and she was of the mind that she would rather never have such a thing happen to her at all. Kissing, as described by Kerridan, seemed the worst of it—who in the world would she ever want to do such a thing with? Who in the world would ever be suitable?

“I'll come to you later tonight with news, my Lady. Please do not do anything rash between now and then.”

“Of course not,” she sighed, sipping her tea. The clock chimed the hour, announcing it to be five o'clock. Supper would be served for her in her room around seven and so she was eager for Kerridan to return then so that she might hear news.

She passed her time by brushing her own hair and slowly working on her needlework. She thought herself rather good at needlework but then again, Kerridan may have simply been humoring her when he told her that it looked lovely. She could feel the shape of the flowers but she had no idea as the to the colors of the threads. She relied on the maids to tell her which colors were which before she constructed the petals and the leaves and she hoped that surely, they would not lead her astray. Of course, what was needlework to climbing up chimneys or kidnapping servants?

Nearly bored stiff as the clock chimed out the evening, she perked up immediately when she heard the door open again and Kerridan returned.

“Oh you do smell sweet, my Lady, but I will have to sour you. I've not found out anything that could help you. Admittedly, there are so many Beta servants, it would be difficult for me to find out which one it was...and we are so devilishly good at lying...”

“They would not be so good at lying to me,” she sniffed. “I have a brilliant nose.”

“You would be surprised at what a Beta can hide if he wills it,” he warned.

A prickle began at the back of her neck. “And what do you think you've been hiding from me that I don't know about already?”

“Plenty,” he told her nonchalantly, as though it were completely rational for him to have held anything back with her. “Now don't fret about such things. We'll get to the bottom of this without having to kidnap anyone.”

She didn't reply, feeling rather peevish as she was eating her haddock and contemplating her plot. Perhaps she would have to pull it off without the use of Kerridan and she was far more intent now to do so than ever before. She had interrupted the man who had been rifling through her brother's desk and so surely he had not finished doing so. Should he have reason to go back there, she could catch him in the act yet again and this time she could be prepared.

After finishing her supper, she tied a silk sash about her waist in case she would need it to tie the villain's hands and then felt gingerly about the tray Kerridan had left on her table for the nearly full bottle of claret. Wrapping the base of it with a cloth and tying it with a bit of ribbon, she hoped that upon being coshed with it, the man would not fall into a heap and expire. Else, she would have to somehow explain herself to Kerridan as to how she had ended up committing murder for the sake of the truth. She set this prepared bit of her plan on the small table beside the door and then took a deep breath before she quietly left the room. Easing down the halls, she could hear a number of guests playing saucy parlor games downstairs as she crept back to Emmett's study. Should she find him there again, the trick was merely going to be getting him to follow her. Not entirely impossible, she thought, but more than likely the most dangerous of games.

He was not there. She walked herself into a corner of the room that was away from the low flames of the fire and waited there, comfortable that she could not be seen in the shadow of the dark and shielded by the bulk of a nearby bookshelf. Hopefully, she thought, she would be able to smell him if he came in.

So long did she wait that her feet were starting to become sore and the clock announced readily that it was nearly eleven o'clock. Of course just as she was yawning and considering creeping back to her room to go to bed, she heard the creak of the door. Willing herself not to become overly excited, she listened for the tell-tale sounds of a tryst. When they did not come, she trained her ears again for the slight shiffing of paper on paper.

It was him! Her heart beat hard with her excitement and she listened as he very quietly began shuffling and opening the drawers of her brother's desk. What madness, she thought wildly, thinking him very much the brute for having the gall for such deception. With swift steps, she approached him then, revealing herself to the warm firelight and knowing that he saw her when she heard the breath catch in his throat.

“Do not ignore me, sir, for I may have whatever it is that you seek.”

He eased the drawer he had opened shut. After a moment's pause his mild voice, deeper than she would have assumed, tingled in her ears. “Who are you, miss? If I may inquire?”

“This is my house, sir. I believe you should introduce yourself to me.”

He sighed through his nose. “I don't have time for this game. If you'll excuse me.”

“I will not excuse you. You're snooping about. If you want information then it will have to do that you know that I am the Lady of this house and I may be able to assist you. Is it your mistress? Is she in love with Emmett? Perhaps there are things she should know about him before she enters into a marriage with him. Things rather pertinent to her own well-being.”

He seemed to consider that and she was certain he was sizing her up.

“You know a great deal about your brother then?” he asked almost leisurely, as though he were prodding her with his words.

“I know what your mistress could need to know.”

“Then tell me, I've not got all night.”

“Not here. It is not private enough. Follow me to my chambers and we will have time enough to talk. I do hope your mistress is not of a desperate sort.”

His scent grew even more intriguing, hot with something she couldn't place. Satisfaction, perhaps? “I'm not of the mind to be caught entering into your room by someone who may misunderstand. Tell me here. Now.”

“No. My chambers are far away from any party activities. My brother sees to that well enough. You're in no danger from my brother, sir Beta.”

“I would have your word of it.”

“Then you have it.” She must have been quite convincing. After all, she hadn't actually lied. He was in no danger from her brother—only from she, herself. Assuming he would come with her, she moved toward the door rather fluidly, surprising herself for lacking any sort of tremble. She had buried her fear, thank goodness, and it was neigh undetectable in her scent. Satisfied that he _did_ follow her when she heard his footsteps in the hallway, she led him through the empty halls, discreetly wiping her palms on her dress before she opened the door to her chambers. “Right this way, sir,” she told him, urging him to move ahead of her. His soft, mild Beta musk was actually quite charming, she thought, even as she moved into the room and put out her hand for the bottle of claret.

“Now what is this that—”

The bottle made contact as she swung it hard and she was relieved at least to know that she had not misjudged where his head was...and that he hadn't yet turned around to face her. He fell to the floor, crumbling down to the carpet with a distinctive “whumf” sort of sound and she quickly made to close the door before she came to his side and searched for his head and throat to check for life.

“Sir Beta?” she whispered, eager to know if she had fully incapacitated him. “ _Sir Beta?_ ” His pulse was strong but he did not reply to her. “Ah,” she murmured, “good enough then. Now let's get you all cozy, hmm?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This crazy bitch, I swear to god. <3 I adore her.
> 
> Also: If there is anything one would like to add about the way Sophie interacts, speaks, or moves based on anyone's experience being or knowing a person who is blind, please do so! The only thing I have to go on is research and knowing how I have to do things when I break my glasses.


	6. Chapter 6

His head hurt like the devil. She'd very nearly brained him with something and lord did it ever hurt, his brain pulsing in his head without relief. Bern groaned, the sound escaping him without his meaning it. He was face-down, strapped to a bed as though he were an Omega in heat. Under his head was a comfortable pillow, though it could have been made of bricks for all the good it could do for his aching. He opened his eyes and at the first he thought it was simply dark in the room but upon gaining further awareness, he could tell that he'd been blindfolded.

_Good lord, am I nude?_

“Oh what a mood you're in.”

_Damn that tricky little wench!_

“You're the one who was sneaking about, you villain. I'll not let you go until you tell me exactly why you were rifling through my brother's papers.”

Simmering, he refused to speak at all, cursing the day he'd ever laid eyes on the little bitch. And to think he'd thought her pretty! How in the hell a blind Omega ever got the best of him, he'd never know—and never live down. Whatever happened, he had to make certain that Wagner never found out.

There was a quick _snap_ and a sharp sting on his back that cause him to make a somewhat loud little yelp and he gasped after, affronted.

“How dare you hit me, you little harpy! And how dare you have me strapped down!”

“I didn't _have_ you strapped down. I did that all by myself. Does that surprise you?” She sounded overly smug which made his blood boil. “I expect an explanation.”

“And I expect that you'll be carted away to Bensham!”

He heard her giggle a bit. “Perhaps I should be but really, how could you blame me for this? Now. Tell me what you were doing.”

_Snap!_

“Ouch!” He frowned, his teeth clenching at the pain and his ire rising even as an _unexpected_ sensation crept into his awareness.

_Good god, am I aroused? This sort of thing hasn't happened since I was a boy._

He could remember as an adolescent having to overcome what he had thought were mostly random encounters with spontaneous arousal but those days had long been over—so what in the world was this?

_Snap!_

“Uhn!” She was most certainly using some kind of crop and the stinging lingered for a few seconds after she hit him upon his back. Nude and experiencing a rather uncomfortable half-staff, he could have felt utterly humiliated...that was, if the little bitch could have seen him. Still, she could smell him. Did she know what arousal smelled like? Had she been with anyone before?

_Snap!_

“I'm becoming impatient with you,” she huffed. “You are being very rude.”

“And you're being positively infuriating,” he grumbled. “You've struck me over the head, stripped me to my skin, and now you're beating me with a...with a crop! Should you let me go now, I'll make certain you face no consequence.”

“You think you're more convincing than I? Surely no one would consider me capable of something like this.” She laughed and the sound sent more blood rushing to his groin.

_Snap!_

“Tell me what I want to know or I'll hit you harder.”

The threat gave him a full and proud erection that was uncomfortably jutting against the mattress, trapped by his weight. Despite that she could not see him, he was flushed nearly to his toes with his embarrassment, recalling his school days when he would be caned for a boy's basic infractions of rule. This was unfathomable. His indignant fury couldn't even begin to stand up against the humiliation. “Good God, woman. Could you give me a moment to breathe?”

_Snap!_

“Ah! To the devil with you!” he spat, the sting upon the left cheek of his arse, “I'm no servant of any mistress, you little demon! I was invited to this infernal party like all the rest of these strutting cocks! Now let me go or I swear to you when I get out of this, I'll wring your little chicken neck!”

“A guest? And not an Alpha? I don't believe you.”

“That's perfectly fine then. You'll have to kill me and roll me up in your rug because I will _most certainly_ wring your neck now!”

She giggled again, the sound far too vexing to comprehend. “You know, Sir Beta, you do not _smell_ as though you wish to ring my neck.”

_Curse her! Curse her straight to hell!_

“You despicable little wretch! You're going to regret this!”

_Snap!_

“For the love of God!”

“Yes!” she laughed, “for the love of God!” Clearly tickled for her allusion, she continued to giggle and to Bern it was not the giggle of a madwoman, it was the giggle of a woman who was getting exactly what she wished for.

He growled, his voice rising. “You know, I could simply yell.”

“With the amount of trysting and debauched mating occurring in this house, no one will bother to investigate.”

He hated how right she was and he buried his face in the pillow to scream, pulling at the bindings as though he could somehow conjure the amount of strength necessary to break them. Of course, since he was no Alpha, there was no use in doing so. Damn his Beta luck. He barked at her with his face to the side. “Fine! If you insist upon this course: your brother's invested in something not on the up and up as they say and I'm going to find out what it is. If I'm going to find it within my interest to invest my wealth into something, I'd better be damned well certain of what I'm sinking it into.”

There was a pause. “This is about his business?”

“What do you know of it?” he grumbled.

“Well...nothing.”

He chuffed. “Of course you don't. Useless Omegas...”

_Snap!_

“I've told you what you wanted!” His headache was almost completely gone and only the now somewhat pleasurable sting of the crop remained as his focus. Lord it was devious, this strange arousal. He wanted it to stop and then...then he wanted it to continue. He felt himself infuse with heat, this dastardly attraction to that accursed crop unbelievable and cross with everything he'd ever before thought of himself. He was a prude! He was not _deviant_ in the least! No Beta was. They were boring, placid, and disturbingly mild—how could he have come to this?

“And then you insulted me. You've gotten everything you've deserved.”

His manhood twitched under him and a terrible thought came to his mind before he could quash it. _Yes. Everything I've deserved. And I deserve more._

He cleared his throat. “I've given you everything you've asked. You sought the answers for why I was in your brother's study and I've provided them.” He worked to keep his voice steady. “If you would kindly see to these bindings, I will be extremely discreet and I will not tell a soul about this night.”

“Of course you won't,” she replied, “else you would have to tell everyone that a blind little Omega got the better of you. That wouldn't do for your pride would it?”

“I'm not an Alpha.”

“You've still got plenty of pride. And what would they say to find out that you've been whipped and excited about it? Perhaps I shouldn't continue to harass you with this since you seem to enjoy it more than I anticipated.” She traced the leather over his back, aimlessly trailing it over his buttocks. When the soft touch dipped to the tender flesh of his inner thighs, he gave a light and almost inaudible sigh that she must have detected.

_Snap!_

“ _Uhn!_ ”

“Oh dear, do I tease you. Alright. If you insist, I'll let you go. But I'll simply have to have my insurance that I won't have my little chicken neck wrung.”

“And how do you intend to have insurance of that?” He felt her small, cool hand upon his face before he smelled a strong brandy near his nose.

“Drink it, Beta. Or you'll not be free from this bed.”

“If you think to poison me...”

She scoffed. “It is laudanum only. You'll be perfectly fine though perhaps wandering the halls in the nude should you seek not to replace your clothes.”

“And you think I'll not be rendered utterly senseless? How did you measure it?”

“Oh you Betas really are boring, aren't you? Just drink it you insufferable man, and know this: I'll not have you ruining my brother for a bad investment. If you think him up to something nefarious, you shall try to prove whatever it is you wish and I will attempt to prove the opposite.”

“Oh go to the devil,” he grumbled again with the rim of the glass to his lips. He drank what she clumsily poured and within minutes could feel the effects.

Every moment she was near him suddenly felt as though she were administering small electric shocks to him and his urge to fight against everything failed as the world began to grow weaker around him. Without much sense to him left, he felt her unbind him, his breaths slowed a small bit and his ire quelled entirely. With her gentle prodding, he followed the motions of sitting up, heedless to his state of arousal while saliva dripped from his lips onto his bare thighs. Her voice sounded muffled as though she were speaking to him while he was under the warm water of a nice bath and he could not well and truly make sense of anything she spoke. Still, she managed to get him dressed as well as she could with little help from him.

His legs were weak and several times as they walked—where were they going?—he stumbled and tripped. Finally he was laid down upon a settee next to a smoldering hearth, and he was left there covered in a somewhat heavy quilt. Comfortable and overwhelmingly sleepy, he dozed and then slept the dreamless, formless sleep of laudanum.

Waking was a chore and though he wished not to, he was jostled to awaken by the pensive-looking Delevan. His mouth felt like a desert, dry and sandy, and his eyes were blurry and unfocused. A slight panic struck him at the sight and smell of the Alpha above him.

“Ughmnn?” he tried, his tongue feeling several sizes too large.

“You're a sight, aren't you, Porter? I heard that Lady Helen was left to her lonesome and I wasn't sure what to think. Broadspear might be happy with you for that but God knows how he'll feel if he knows you've been romping elsewise. Good lord, you look a fright. What in the world were you up to?” He leaned over and gave Bern a good sniff. “What the devil? Have you been drugged, my good lad? What sort of frolicking have you been up to?!”

“Mmmgh...” he tried again, weakly pushing against the Alpha to keep the man's burning scent from him. “Please...D-Del...” How was he going to explain any of this? He couldn't rightly tell the truth. Who would believe him? Not only that but if they did believe him...they would antagonize him until the end of his days. A blind Omega who tied him down and whipped him? And what of when she tells them all that he was _excited_ while she did it? The hazy memories of what she'd done to him swam back to him and he grew embarrassed all over again.

“I don't know what you've done or to whom you've done it but by golly, it seems you've captured the spirit of Broadspear's parties quite well!” He chuckled lewdly. “You know, I was worried about you and how you might fare at this sort of gathering and I shouldn't have! It seems you've had a far better night than I have.”

A far better night? He doubted that entirely. Sitting up and swinging his feet to the floor, he found his shoes untied (that must have accounted for most of his tripping) and his clothes in a terrible disarray. “Delevan...my chamber...could you?”

“Of course, my good man, hold my shoulder and we'll set you to rights.” The Lord led him to his room and set him down on the edge of his bed. “You're looking a bit green, I'll tell your man to bring you some broth and set you to bed. Perhaps we'll see you for games one the lawn later on? Or perhaps for supper.”

He grumbled, collapsing on the far superior comfort of his bed while he waited for Urwin's biting wit to stroll through the door. He still could not comprehend what had occurred. She had _whipped_ him. She had taken a riding crop and whipped him mercilessly over his back and his buttocks and even his thighs! He kicked off his shoes and when Urwin came to him, he turned away on the counterpane, ignoring the man completely.

“I say, sir, you've seen better days. Something's gone awry, I suppose.”

“Piss off,” he mumbled, sure that Urwin wouldn't understand him anyway.

“My, my, what a mouth.” Of course he had. “The only cure for something like this is a good swift kick in the arse. Perhaps I shall orchestrate something for you, sir. Perhaps I should be more forthcoming about who came to your room last night to our host.”

“ _Perhaps_ ,” he began saucily, “you can be _forthcoming_ about the other incidentals about last night with Broadspear as well—the fact that I, myself, was not present in my room for the duration of the night should be the the most pertinent of facts!”

“And I suppose this is the moment where I should demand that I know just where you were should anything come of it.” Urwin's tone was decidedly biting.

“I don't like your insinuation.”

“I don't like that you've made a damned fool out of yourself already. I'm of half the mind that I should force you out of that bed and into proper clothes so that you may wallow in your suffering in public.”

Bern felt the man viciously yank the counterpane from under his prostrate form and practically begin tearing his clothes off of him, his tuttering and grumbling getting more incensed with each moment. When he'd gotten Bern's shirt from him, he gave pause, his frustrated scent forming a tone of unique curiosity.

“Sir?”

“What,” Bern bit out.

“You've welts...”

“Yes, I know. If you think you'd like to keep your job, you'll leave me be about them. I should dismiss you anyway for how impertinent you are.”

Urwin tutted again but left him in his drawers and pulled the counterpane up over his shoulders, tucking him in quite nicely before telling him solidly that he would be back to get him dressed for supper. His tone left no room for argument and so Bern didn't make any, curling into himself and recalling the utter humiliation that had left him hard as a stone only a few hours ago. Even the memory of it was enough to bring back his rampant lust and nearly instinctively, he cupped himself and gave a few experimental strokes.

The sting of her crop on his flesh, the brutal intensity of having been strapped down and helpless to a headstrong and giggling little Omega... His manhood was painfully swollen and he spat into his hand, rubbing over himself with earnest as he recalled her taunting, humiliating words. God, how was this so arousing!? How was this what he had become?! How could he somehow wish he could relive moments that only some kind of sexual _deviant_ would consider stimulating?! His disgust with himself served only to excite him further.

It was this tension that served to keep him invested in the process of reliving the event over and over until his shaking and trembling orgasm ripped through him, the likes of which he'd never experienced before. A shameful and gripping allure dawned over him and he grasped it with his fading consciousness. He was a decent and mild Beta gentleman...but by God, he was going to find that devil woman again...and he was going to wring her little chicken neck!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I don't think Sophie's going to be all that worried about getting her neck wrung.


	7. Chapter 7

She was sipping her morning tea and basking in the gentle warmth of the breeze that flowed in from her opened window. Set upon the east-facing side of the house, she was blessed with the sun on her face and she smiled into it. When she had first lost her sight, she could notice every single ounce of light that could find its way into her eye. She had shied from it, her eyes so hideously sensitive to even the smallest shreds. She remembered it very plainly how terrible it had been to have even a sliver of sunlight meet her eyes, even in reflections from the painted walls outside her sickroom. It was almost as though it were mere weeks ago rather than years that she could remember her eyes feeling as though they were gritty and sandy, her reaction to light of any kind like that of a vampire.

Sophie shivered and sipped her tea, glad at least that she need not ever have that terrible experience ever again. Once one had lost something permanent, it was impossible to lose it twice. She smiled and soaked up the glorious rays and listened to Kerridan rustling about in her room.

“I cannot believe what you've done,” the Beta mumbled, knowing full-well that she could hear him despite his words being near to a whisper. “Taking the poor bastard and beating him. You'll get yourself sent off to the asylum if your brother doesn't take kindly to all this nonsense. How could he? He's got a lot going on right now and he doesn't need you kidnapping his house guests and taking a riding crop to them.”

“All business,” Sophie smiled. “That's what he said. Business. What sort of business do you think my brother has gotten himself into this time? Some sort of shady investment no doubt. But to search through his things?”

“Your brother has not been known to make savvy investments, my Lady,” Kerridan grumbled back. “And you are not known to make wise decisions all around. What if he tells your brother what you did to him? You no doubt left a mark on him, he'll have plenty of proof.”

“Will he? Any other woman might have done such a naughty thing to him. With how excited it got him, I imagine it can't be the first it's ever happened.”

“I've no doubt it was the first it's ever happened to him,” Kerridan snapped back. “The poor man is a wealthy Beta from a respectable family. He's as repressed as they come. He's probably never even read a bawdy novel.”

“Have you?” she asked.

“Of course I have. But it took me long enough to find one. Betas are hardly the type to simply run across them in our common lives. Such off-color things were not written with us in mind.” He sounded flustered.

Sophie grinned into her teacup. “He won't tell my brother. If he does, he won't have the opportunity to invest in something that might make him loads of money. Not only that but Emmett would never allow a lowly Beta to besmirch my good name.”

“You've only got that good name because no one would believe you capable of stripping a man to his skin, tying him down, and whipping him into confession.”

“You make it sound so crude.”

“You've interrogated him. He was bumbling about this morning and his blasted manservant is a dastardly sort. He's _shrewd_ , my Lady, and not in any of the good sort of ways. He'll be the ones to pull the strings and get to the bottom of this and you'll find yourself with the rug out from under you before you know it.”

She giggled and finished her tea. “You're so terrible, Kerridan.”

“No, _you're_ the terrible one. Good god.” He huffed, picking up her laundry with such flourish that she could hear the delicate material crumpling in his grip. “I cannot believe that I've stayed in this house with you, witnessed the things you've done, and kept my fool mouth shut time and time again.”

“Oh dear, you sound very fed up with me.”

“I am a breath away from telling your brother of every one of your misdeeds, my Lady.”

“Gracious, it's a bit late in the morning for that if you wanted to be finished before midnight.” She giggled again and then stood, brushing her skirts with her hands. “Pardon, Kerridan, do you know where Emmett is this morning? Is he awake quite yet?”

“I can't imagine where he might be if he's not asleep in his room with one or two of those wanton women he invited.”

“Terrible,” she mused, still chuckling as she meandered out the door and into the hallway. She hummed a little tune as she walked along in the quiet manor, counting her steps and running her fingertips lightly along the wall. She walked until she knew she was outside her brother's door and she gently cupped her hand to the wood and placed her ear against it, listening for the sound of Emmett's soft snoring. When she did not hear it, she continued to walk until she found herself outside upon the terrace. This, of course, was a terrible mistake.

“Oh, what do we have here?” came a voice she did not recognize.

“I do beg your pardon, sir,” she purred, “but I'm looking for the Baron, have you seen him?”

“I daresay the Baron is far less titillating in his conversation than I am, my little Lady Omega, please...I do insist that you join me to breakfast together.” His scent was harsh and very Alpha, the consistency of it sticky and unpleasant. She tried her best not to wrinkle her nose but couldn't seem to stifle it as much as she wished.

“Oh thank you, kind sir, but I simply must find my brother. He's made me a promise that must be dealt with this very morning. Perhaps another time?”

“Brother?” he mumbled, perplexed.

“Yes, have you seen him?”

“In the garden...by the folly.”

Where else? She thanked the man, gave him a curtsy, and tapped her way down onto the garden path which whirled about the fragrant flowers until it wound around the folly. She could smell him then, his familiar scent proud and honestly distasteful. “Emmett?” she asked softly toward the wind.

“Sophie?”

“Ah, there you are.” She marched into the folly and turned her head in the direction of the startled “eep!” that came from whatever probably-half-naked girl was hiding behind him. “Don't fret yourself, Miss, as my brother will tell you, I've no sight in order to pass judgment upon your figure. Emmett, I need to talk to you.”

“Sophie,” he began, his clothes rustling as he was frantically pulling himself together, “I see that this will be a trying week indeed if you are already underfoot. It being so early, I did not expect to be tripping over you until at least Thursday.” His voice was softer when he addressed the Omega with him, her scent bitter with her anxieties. “You must forgive my sister, Miss Harlow, she's not quite right.”

“Not quite right is what all of this is, myself perhaps included,” she stated dryly. “You've got a bit of explaining to do.”

“I don't believe I owe you a single explanation for anything, Sophie. At all. If you're looking for a nice Alpha to cozy up with, I'll find you a suitable one.”

“I don't need you to find me an Alpha, brother. I need you to speak with me. Privately.”

“Whatever you have to say can be said in front of Miss Harlow.”

Sophie's lips were tight for a moment and through gritted teeth she growled. “Emmett...I need to speak with you... _alone._ ”

He gave a great put-upon sigh and growled back at her, the edge of his _Alpha_ voice singeing her last nerve. “ _I'm not in the mood._ ”

Sophie's anger was more than adequate to overpower any force that could come from her brother's throat and she snipped back at him hotly, “Well then to the devil with you, you floundering sod. I hope you drink so much you can't get it up.” Turning, she tapped down the steps and tried to ignore the catty little quip that met her ears from Miss Harlow. Teeming with her frustration, she moved straight into the house and didn't even bother to reply to any of the Alphas who hailed her on the way. With sure steps, she was halfway to Emmett's study before she felt a hand on her elbow. With a gasp, she was whirled around and the strong scent of her brother found her and calmed her.

“Sophie,” he mumbled softly, “I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I wasn't thinking.”

She tore her elbow from his grasp and gave him a little “harumph” before she turned back around and finished stomping her way to his study. Knowing that he was following, she began to speak as she opened the door. “What are you involved in, Emmett?”

“What can you be talking about?”

“I've heard some mumbling about some investments you're involved in and I want to know why in the world there are men who think you're up to no good.” She was terribly blunt, she was often told though it was perhaps the only way she knew to be. “You've made some bad investments in the past, I know. What are you doing now? Shall I be worried for us?”

“You need not even consider it, Sophie. It is not for young ladies to be involved in such distasteful things.” He meant business investments and yet she nearly could have equated it to the ever-taboo issue of _trade._

“You've not gone into trade...”

“Heavens no,” he chuckled. “This is nothing concerning. It's a perfectly legitimate investment. There is a promising company that has acquired an amount of land south of the Sahara, deep in the African jungles. There is a wealth of gold beneath the earth in Africa and it is about time that we capitalized upon it.”

“And the people who live there?” Sophie snapped.

“Perhaps that is a conversation best left for when you've calmed and had a bit of chamomile.”

She whirled around, hearing the click of the latch on the door. “African gold? Really, Emmett? Do you think it wise to put your money into something you will never set your eyes upon?”

“There are plenty of investments that one never sets their eyes upon. Delevan's put half his wealth into a soap factory in the middle of London that no self-respecting man would ever step foot inside.”

“Self-respect?” she asked. “You say that as though the poor men who work in such a factory must not have any.” She crossed her arms in front of her and made certain to glare.

“Sophie,” he stated softly, “please. Must I explain myself at every moment? I said I was sorry, can we please move on from your ire?” He moved toward her, his scent strong and annoyed even as his warm hands moved to her shoulders to squeeze and massage her, pulling her close that he could rub the back of her neck to calm her. “You've our Ama's wit but it came with her temper. Come on. Relax. I don't need to find myself tied up in the cellar again for offending you.”

“That was years ago,” she grumbled.

“Yes. Four. Four years ago. You speak of it as though it were when we were children.”

Sophie finally cracked a small grin, recollecting how proud she had been to leave him in the damp cold as his punishment for purposefully stepping upon the hem of a gown he found to be of an ugly color. It had been comfortable—who cared about the color? She broke away from his comforting grip and walked toward his desk. “There is a Beta here.”

“Mr. Porter,” he said quickly. “Has he bothered you?”

“No. Not at all,” she lied, easily masking it in her scent. The two of them had become particularly good at that over the years. “He was interested in your African mines, I suppose. Mentioned something about seeking to invest...”

There was a pregnant pause in which she could practically smell the smoke billowing from her brother's ears as he thought. “He...he's interested?”

“A steady Beta as an example among your friends investing in this project...it certainly suggests a winning venture,” she pointed out, prodding him. There surely couldn't be anything _truly_ nefarious about this African gold nonsense, she thought. But if there was, she could sniff it right out. She would prove to herself, and to this _Mr. Porter_ that her brother was merely unlucky. He was no criminal.

Her brother seemed to think upon this again. “How shrewd of you. It is a damned good thing that you've never had a mind to marry anyone. I'd have a devil of a time getting him to submit to you.”

“Would you?” she said lightly, “I daresay that would be my issue rather than yours.”

“Hmgh.” His noncommittal grunt was all he would give. A signal of his doubt.

She sighed through her nose and got up. “Are you going to chat with this Mr. Porter?”

“I will speak with him at supper. He's been elusive. I imagine that it's difficult to find him for the same reason it's often difficult to find the servants.” His grumble was pronounced despite its low volume. “Betas...slippery devils.”

“This sounds as though he could be troublesome.”

“He's not my usual sort of guest.”

The side of her mouth rose. “Not an Alpha, you mean?”

Emmett sat in his chair, the wood squeaking under his weight. “Yes. That's what I mean. These Omegas are meant for Alphas and—”

“For your _entertainment_ ,” she told him sharply. “I know what they're for. You like having your little clubs with your friends and you don't like all of that challenged by men you think lesser than yourself. I know what you're about, Emmett. Don't obfuscate the facts with me, Alpha.” She huffed out a breath. “I, for one, am glad that you've branched out. It shows you're more comfortable in yourself than those who haven't any Beta friends to their name. Not to mention he's got plenty of money. There's no other reason he'd be climbing so high on the social ladder.”

The Alpha growled in his sigh. “Must you be so vulgar, Sophie? Can you not be a proper lady?”

“Why bother? It isn't as though I have any _mind_ to marry someone. What's the point of manners if one doesn't get anything out of it?”

“You don't truly believe that, do you?”

“Don't you? From the way you behave, I wouldn't think any other way.” With that as her chosen last word, she marched to the door, unlatched it, and left, confident that his wilted Alpha scent was the mark of her victory. He would speak to Mr. Porter and offer whatever investment he was working with. Things would play out from there. Of course, if Emmett were to insinuate to the snooping Beta that he'd heard of his introduction to her...ah, the fear! She could just imagine how the man would _sweat_. Lord, it sounded delicious. She laughed, low and quiet as she fair skipped down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sophie, with all my affection, love, and heart: you absolute _bitch._
> 
> I adore her.


	8. Chapter 8

He knew it wasn't morning when he woke up again but he wasn't certain of the time. The sun was peeping in through the thick, heavy curtains and Urwin was bustling around in the room, getting together some kind of outfit Bern was no doubt supposed to wear. He could barely remember anything past the sting of the riding crop on his backside and the delicate flesh of his inner thigh. He could scarce remember what he'd told her—if anything. He was certain he'd lied or at least kept the truth from her somehow. Whatever he'd told her, it couldn't have been that he was in the house investigating on behalf of several men who thought her brother a scoundrel and a fraud.

No...of course not. He was still alive. No doubt the little vixen would have strangled him quite neatly and thrown him into the wine cellar to dispose of his body properly once the guests had left. She was resourceful and shameless, he decided then and there, and that was something that made the clever little Omega very very dangerous indeed. Mistress of the house and certainly someone he did not intend on vexing ever again if he could help it.

A niggling thought began to eat away at him and he tried to smash it before it could take hold by closing his eyes again.

_Or do I? Vexing her was quite...stimulating._

He growled at himself, low in his throat. On that note, he wriggled off to his other side and Urwin noticed that he was awake at once.

“Master Porter, supper will be served in a half an hour and I need to get you dressed. You should rise before I'm forced to confiscate your sheets.”

“Curse you.”

“You cannot wallow in your misery forever, you know. Lots of men get themselves tumbled about with the wrong sort of Omega and even despite, they manage to keep their heads held high. You're hardly the type of man who would allow a girl to get the better of you, are you? Pretend she does not exist if she's been rough with you, sir.”

“Been _rough_ with me? What would you know about it?” He felt a fire in his guts begin to spread to his heart. He didn't want to be lectured as much as he didn't want any of this to have happened to him. “I've been made a fool, Urwin. By a cocksure woman who's got a taste for my blood no doubt.”

“Clearly not the girl who was waiting for you in your room last night. Had I known you would become so popular among the fairer sex here, Mr. Porter, I would have been far more encouraging at the start.”

“Oh, now you're going to act as though you wished this for me?”

He scoffed. “Of course not. Though how will you ever find a wife for yourself among the upper class should you not scout among them? I suppose a few of them will be deviant and playful with you.”

“You call whipping me and drugging me with laudanum as 'playful'?” He peeked out from underneath the counterpane, glaring at the man as he strode about the room.

Urwin paused but appeared nonchalant even as he replied. “They play devious and dangerous little games, those Omegas. I imagine she was beautiful.”

Bern grumbled.

“I shall take that as a yes.”

“Take it to hell.”

“Testy this evening. I think you'll certainly be giving those Alphas exactly what they expect of you. It's common knowledge to them that Betas are a surly sort. You'll be playing right into their assumptions of you. Is that what you want?” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps it is considering the real reason you're here. Play the expected and you'll have them looking away from you and toward their own sport.”

“I'll do what I damned well please.”

“You're supposed to be getting the truth.”

Bern sat up, ignoring the dizziness that plagued him as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and allowed Urwin to help dress him. “I'll be speaking to Broadspear and no doubt he's heard of whatever happened to me last night—”

“What _did_ ever happen to you last night, sir?”

“None of your business, you nosy cod. I told you I was whipped and drugged.”

“Perhaps something more invigorating, I was hoping.”

He ignored the jab and stood, quickly putting himself together and swatting Urwin's hands away from his hair so that he could arrange it himself in the mirror. It was a terrible habit of his, his coiffure always seeming to have a mind of its own no matter what he did. He couldn't help it that he couldn't stand the way Urwin seemed to always wish it held down by some sort of pomade. Ghastly stuff. He was going to see if he couldn't procure a good seat by Broadspear and insinuate that he wished to invest. He was going to get in on this African mine nonsense one way or the other. Whether or not he was going to actually wager any of his money—Broadspear didn't have to know any of that sort of truth.

When he thought that he could function properly without any of the residual effects of the drugging, he made his way downstairs and stealthily joined the men and women in the parlor, keeping to the shadows and the sides of the room while he watched the girls play the piano forte and the men drool over them. To his shock and surprise, he noticed a rather familiar-looking wheelchair.

Lord Whilton was awake—which sometimes seemed a feat for him at these sorts of parties—and politely watching the girls sing and play and read poetry aloud and his wife, Lady Whilton, was standing off to his right and a little bit behind him, nearly invisible in her own right. She was the first to see him and no doubt because Betas simply had a knack for it. She moved to him and came beside him naturally, flaunting her height by straightening her back when she approached.

“My Lady,” he grumbled. “We're to this point already in the night? What will we do after supper?”

“The weather became a little overly nippy for our little ones and so they decided to retreat into the parlor. I'm certain that after supper, there will be singles-only parlor games that you may or may not wish to be involved with.” She sipped a glass of claret and gave him a pointed look. “Should you like me to find you a pretty little mate? These girls are hardly the cream of the crop this year and no doubt for a reason that is honestly distasteful.”

“I can't believe you're here, my Lady,” he replied, forcing a sweetness into his tone. “It is hardly the gathering for a proper Lady.”

“And hardly the gathering for our ever-elusive Mr. Porter who has been deprived of his chance to hide away in the quiet country yet again. Which Omega were you looking for, Porter? Is she prim? Proper? Or perhaps a little practical girl who can milk cows and putter away doing the chores of a house?”

“You know, my Lady? I suppose I hadn't thought about it all that hard. I suppose I thought that the girl would come along whenever fate supposed I was worthy of her.”

“That is certainly not the way to choose a wife,” she chided softly as the dinner bell rang. “You must make her want you, Mr. Porter. Would you like help? Who is it, this girl? I do remember you being interested in one in particular. Is she here tonight?”

“She's not here,” he told her sharply. “And I pray you will not find her.” It wasn't a lie, after all. The girl he found most attractive and invigorating _wasn't_ present. She likely was often told to stay out from under foot and Bern could understand exactly why. If she was much like she was with him with everyone else, Broadspear could hardly count on any of his guests making return visits to his country estate. She was a menace.

“Hmmph,” Whilton puffed as they moved together toward the dining room.

To his surprise, Broadspear found him, insisting quietly that he take the seat to his immediate left so that he may have a chance to speak with him. When it was all settled and he was in his correct position, he found that the Baron was not going to entertain him until everyone had come to their own distractions. It wasn't difficult to find out what those distractions were to be, of course, as the whole of the dining room and the arrangements of guests had been manufactured to produce as much stimulation as possible by way of conversation among opposite genders.

As the odd man out, Bern was patient, licking his lips and casting covert glances to the Lord and Lady Whilton who were busily flirting across the table from each other. They were an enviable couple and he knew he was a fool to find himself coveting after Lady Whilton but god did she look at that man as though he were crafted by angels. Confined to his chair for the rest of his life, the man could scarce stand for a few seconds and yet—yet! She loved him. Beyond anything she loved him and Bern was left to wonder for the rest of his days if there was a love like that out in the world for him as well.

_No. Probably not. Not for a Beta like you who seems to have some kind of deviant streak inside him. How in the world could someone like you, who's been stripped nude and whipped by a rogue Omega earn something so fragile and delicate as love?_

He slumped in his seat, waiting for the first course which, when it came, was dutifully eaten though he could hardly taste it. All of this happiness around him, whether from love or debauchery, was sickening. There was a damned legitimate reason that everyone thought Betas were a surly bunch and it was that they were nearly never _good enough_. For anything! Fairy tales weren't made for them. They were villains. They were the comedic foil. They were servants and out-of-the-way characters who never amounted to much of anything and never got anything that wasn't broken beforehand.

_She's not broken. She's damned gifted._

He gritted his teeth at his own thoughts, appalled that he could have held any esteem at all for the little minx who'd managed to kidnap him and strap him down upon a bed. Of course, he thought, it was near to _admirable_ for her to have managed all of it by herself but he could not possibly have commended her for it. That was, unless she had done it to someone he didn't like.

He flashed his eyes to Broadspear who seemed to be studying him. From the blank expression he knew was present on his face, he could surmise that the man clearly did not know what to do with him. He'd probably heard of what happened between Bern and his sister and was attempting to hash out how to approach the subject. Bern decided to breach the barrier himself.

“I suppose your sister told you that our paths have crossed.” He reached for his claret.

“She may have mentioned it,” the Alpha replied, also reaching for his drink. “She also mentioned that you were expressing interest in investments. Particularly one that you'd heard of through our local rumor mill.”

_Thank god he's a decent fellow._

“This business of...” Bern cast a glance over the table, determining that the guests were all suitably distracted before he continued. “African mines?”

“Filled to the brim with gold,” Broadspear murmured, leaning forward to speak. “I've a benefactor who places the investments for me. You must understand, I am simply a middleman here.”

“I suppose there is urgency in the matter. I must agree with it if there is, you see, I've lost quite a bit of money in the recent past.” His lie was easy and fell from his lips without any hitch. Not even in his mild scent which rippled in ways that Alphas could not even hope to interpret. “I'll need something to bolster it fairly quickly and gold is one way to do so should it be eligible to process quickly.” He could see the man's eyes lighting up at the suggestion that Bern had once been foolish with his money. It was rare for Betas and a boon to any who sought to make their investments appear stable.

“Oh yes, I can promise you that. Once the excavations are in full working order with all the investments in place, the money will be piling up.” His eyes were glittering now. “But you must keep this quiet for now, Porter. Your presence on the project will certainly keep the faith high in the initial investment stage but I do not wish to have this be common knowledge. You can keep it a secret, can't you?”

“I am the very soul of discretion, sir. There are only a few questions that I would have to ask.”

“I will be able to answer later. Not here. It is too risky here.”

Wagner's words came back to him. _Shipping._

“Perhaps one more, Alpha. I imagine that your benefactor may wish to keep the gold secure in its travels...I don't suppose there is some way to ensure that our efforts are not wasted by marauders at sea.”

Broadspear's smile was strangely devious and in that moment, Bern was more than certain that he and the little vixen who'd beaten him were most assuredly of the same brood. “Of course. Many of the initial investments are not purely to staff the mines, of course. There is an affiliate shipping company that the agent I am in contact with runs.”

“A man of some means, I assume.”

“If you seek to know his identity, you won't find it from me. He likes to keep himself aloof from the dirty bits of the business.”

“I see.” There were far too many possibilities here and Bern did not like any of them. For some, this was run-of-the-mill and for others, it was enough to hire a dingy Alpha like Wagner to investigate. For good reason, he thought darkly. That there was some shady individual behind all of this was one thing—that his identity was being actively shielded was another. It was either that the man was high born and unwilling to reveal to the ton that he had shamefully gone into trade or that the man _did not exist at all._ How Broadspear might have thought that he would somehow get away with is investors' money, Bern hadn't yet figured. “I will think about this business, of course. I will tell you what I shall do by the end of the week.”

“Pray you do not wait overly long,” the Baron cooed softly, “as I've no idea when the opportunity shall be missed.”

Seeking to change the subject, he gave a small forced smile that he was sure looked more like a grimace. “Your sister is quite...charming, is she not?”

Broadspear groaned. “No. Tell me you did not fall victim to her.”

“Of course not. Though I can't imagine what you might mean by that.” He pursed his lips, uncertain as to how far he wished to go in his lies. “She seems fiery. Perhaps she must be that way. If she's no prospects, I suppose she can behave however she wishes.”

“This is your way of telling me that my sister is a savage beast roaming my halls. Forgive her, Porter. She normally stays out from underfoot. I would be very cross with her indeed should she chase you away from here. If you require an apology, you must demand one and I will arrange it.”

“No, no. Do not bother. Aside, I should tell you now that her rambunctious nature will surely get you into trouble someday. Having a sister locked away in your country manor for her sight is one thing. Having her wandering about as a madwoman would be another.”

Broadspear's scent lanced with a sudden emotion that set Bern on edge. His voice came as a hiss as he narrowed his eyes and his fingers tightened around his glass. “Dare you to suggest... _an_ _asylum_? I suggest to you, _Beta_ , that you avoid such chatter as it would be particularly _unwise_ should you wish to enjoy my continued hospitality.”

Having set the Alpha distinctly upon his toes over what he thought might have been an obvious red herring, Bern sought to control the collateral damage. “Dear me, no. I do not presume to suggest a thing, I assure you.”

“She's _not_ dangerous,” the Baron snapped, taking a gulp of his claret as he glared across the table. “Make no mistake, Porter, I am very much attached to my sister.”

“Of course, it was not my intention to suggest otherwise.” His calming, mild scent along with the sweet tones of the available Omegas did plenty to soothe the frayed edges of Broadspear's emotions and Bern sat back, pleased with his work. Now, when the man thought of him it would not be with his investments foremost in his mind. It would be his sister and her dramatics. Misdirection was certainly a Beta's finest skill should he choose to hone it.

Wagner would be pleased to know of his progress. At the first, the Alpha had only the name of a shipping company to start and now there was the matter of African mines. It was anyone's guess how deep the scam and the scandals would go. Should Broadspear have fabricated a company on his own, there should be a trail of evidence leading straight to him, not to mention a solicitor that was just as complicit in the endeavor.

_But what if there really were African mines? What if the suggestion of their worth was simply inflated artificially? Then the trail would end with an investment that was real and simply overstated?_

It was still fraud, he thought, but how to prove it was another ordeal. One that would require plenty of in-depth evidence. Best not to worry of it now, he thought as the next course arrived. Should the little Omega be working against him as she had claimed, she would likely have access to all of the materials he could not find previously. Whether or not she could _interpret_ them was another matter. Whether or not she would seek to _destroy them_ to save her brother...well, he could not say.

_I suppose I will have to corner her. That is simply the only way to ensure I can get to the bottom of all of this. If she seeks to be my enemy then she will have to come to terms with the fact that I will be watching her every move._

Warmth spread through his whole body and pooled between his thighs.

_And she will be watching mine..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bern and Sophie have two very different kinds of dangerous games they like to play.
> 
> Like this so far? Leave a comment and let me know. Sorry for odd posting habits. It happens sometimes.


	9. Chapter 9

She had well and truly done it this time, she thought as Kerridan shuffled about her room. “You've plenty of stealth and you've got my eyes, Kerridan. I can't help it that I can't read the notes my brother writes. You've simply got to help me.”

“I have to do no such thing. You accuse the poor Mr. Porter of having been a villain simply because he's gone through your brother's things and then come to me and tell me to do the same because somehow it would not be _just_ as nefarious?”

“We're looking to protect him.”

“And what would you do if I came across something that your brother's done that's illegal? What if he really is looking into shady investments? What if all of this is for naught and your brother is the true villain?” He huffed. “You're not the type of girl who would destroy those notes. You know it as well as I. For all your oddities and your foibles, I know you're a decent woman at heart. Can you bear to know what your brother has done?”

“He hasn't so I shan't be afraid.”

Kerridan growled to himself in frustration, his mild scent bitter with his ire. “The man who hosts trysting parties at the end of the season is a paragon of morality and merely the target of bad luck, says you?”

“I don't see anything wrong with that assessment.” She did, of course. It was perfectly reasonable to assume that her brother _was_ doing something he ought not be doing but it was simply unfathomable to her that he could be doing it on his own volition. He must have been tempted into it if he was. A thought struck her. “Kerridan?”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“You don't suppose that Mr. Porter could have been _lying_ to me?”

“Whipped and tied down? It would take a strong man to lie outright against you.”

She frowned as she ran the tip of her finger over her water glass. “Perhaps not an outright lie, perhaps more of a way to mislead me. He mentioned that he was interested in investing in whatever my brother was up to but he wanted to know if it was on the up and up. Is that enough for him to have risked his life and his reputation to sneak into my brother's study? If he had been caught outright by anyone save myself or some meek Omega present, his life could be in ruin.”

“If he were a desperate man, he might be moved to do so,” Kerridan replied distractedly while engrossed in another task. “Perhaps he's lost a bit of his spending money.”

“It seems to me that there must be more to this.” She stood up, fluffing out her skirts.

“And where do you think you're going?”

“I want to listen to the parlor games, Kerridan. If I cannot formally attend my brother's parties, the very least I can do is be entertained by them.” Without leaving him room enough for argument, she left then, carefully listening to the goings on until she was stationed across the hall from the drawing room in a small room she was convinced had once been a nursery. It had an old, musty feel to it but it was warm and there was a small chair that she could sit upon near to the door. The game that the guests were playing was a variation of sorts in which a small woolen ball was placed upon a table and blown about by the party until it fell from the table. Whomever it felt to the right of would then be forced to do any number of embarrassing things that were only ever enforced whenever the chaperones went to bed.

She liked to imagine the guests out of breath and scandalously pink in the cheeks, laughing raucously and yelping with amusement. The forfeits were often the most interesting part, Sophie thought to herself. She had surmised from a few of these get-togethers that some involved having ladies kissing gentlemen through the backs of chairs or in other ridiculous fashions that were often terribly circuitous. It was a bit of a trial, she thought, for an Omega to outsmart the men who were bent on receiving those kisses and, honestly, she wasn't certain if she would ever wish to have circumvented it at all. She touched her lips with the tips of her fingers.

She hadn't ever _been_ kissed before. She couldn't imagine having the first of them stolen by some cad in a parlor game and yet...what a mystery! What an intriguing bit of fun, she thought. Of course, most parlor games involved being able to _see_ what was happening. Imitating movements, guessing silhouettes from behind a sheet, puffing breath at a woolen ball upon the table.

A fair bit of laughter exploded from the room across the hall and she smiled at the sound of the chairs being rearranged to accommodate a spectacle of a forfeit. Of course, as she contemplated how she would have liked, perhaps, to be kissed by some authoritative gentleman with soft hands and a warm heart, she almost completely forgot herself.

A warm and invitational scent had washed in from the doorway and Sophie was shocked to find herself the subject of interest. A Beta?

“Dear me, what's this?” Her voice was that of the softest satin and silk, a medium tone that strayed toward the deeper end and revealed a mothering sort of countenance surely. This Beta was used to friction, Sophie thought. “A lone little one as an outcast? You must be a sibling of the Baron as you look so much like him...”

She straightened, turning her head toward the door. “Please, Lady Beta, I've meant no harm. I find these games much too distracting, of course, and have no means to play.”

“I see,” the woman replied, her tone indicating that she truly did see—it was not so difficult for anyone to tell that Sophie was blind, after all. “I suppose you are an outcast by your own decision? I can hardly accept that for your scent lingers here with a willingness to come forward. Perhaps you should like to be included?”

“No...no...that will not be necessary. I cannot imagine having everyone laugh at me...”

“Laugh at you? Dear me, if one cannot laugh at themselves then one is doomed to a life of misery. I promise you, my little love, you will be laughing at yourself far harder than any other shall be laughing at you.” Her voice was beautiful, so beautiful in fact that Sophie felt her wall crumbling. But what would her brother think?

“Emmett truly does not wish for me to tumble around under everyone's feet, madam.”

“The lady of the house? A stranger in her own parlor? I think not. Come, come, little one. We will play something that you should be quite decent at.” Her warm hand came to Sophie's imploring her to get up which she did, allowing herself to be pulled out into the fresh air of the hall and then into the parlor where the sparkling tang of Alpha and Omega scents mingled with that of the claret and the spirits. “Here, here, everyone. I've found the little Lady Nolan, Broadspear's sister. If you'll all spare a moment for me to formulate a suggestion, I think we ought to play something that she might be good at.”

She heard Emmett's voice, concern in the edge of his tone. “Sophie?!”

“I do hope I am not intruding...” she mentioned, her nerves failing her as she considered the possibility that Mr. Porter was here with her. She raised her nose to the air but could not discern him over the unique scents that swirled around her, the most prominent emotion around them that of confusion.

“I do insist,” her brother said, “that Sophie not be subjected to the depravity of this evening. How you found her, Lady Whilton, is beyond me, but I cannot allow her to become a spectacle.”

Sophie frowned, her temper rising. “Pardon me, brother? What if I would very much like to become a spectacle?”

An Alpha from the side chimed in. “Yes, Broadspear, what if she would very much like to become a spectacle?”

There was a bit of laughter but all in good fun around the room and Lady Whilton, her Beta champion spoke again. “I believe we should allow the little Lady to make her own decisions as to what she would wish to do. Do you not? It is hardly fair to allow her to sit out of all the fun and games when they are occurring in her own home. If she is to reside here then I say she should be included in all the fun.”

“Not _all_ the fun,” she heard Emmett grumble.

“In any case, I think I have just the thing. I will write animals on parchment slips and place them into a hat. In another hat will be the same animals. The ladies will pick from one and the gentlemen from the other. No one can know who has what, it must be a secret. With the ladies on one side of the room and the men on the other, the men will remain stationary and the women will find them while blindfolded.”

“I don't think I've played this one before,” a smooth Alpha voice remarked. “How do the women find their mark?”

“The men must make the sound of the animal on your parchment. Whomever is the last to find their gentleman must forfeit.”

“And what is the forfeit?”

“What has it been all evening?” she chided. “A kiss, of course. With any man she pleases.”

Sophie felt her heart beat harder in her chest, her emotions swinging wildly. But she hardly knew the men here. Of course, that was assuming that she would lose. Provided that she could tell what was on her parchment and what sort of noise the animal made, she should very well be able to pinpoint the location of her partner. She fiddled with her thumbs the whole time the game was set up and when all the furniture was moved and the girls herded to one side of the room, Lady Whilton came to her.

“Here you are, my dear.” She murmured low while the other girls tittered around them. “Your animal is a cat. So you'll want to find the gentleman who is standing about meowing.”

“Very well,” she breathed. “I am nervous though, my Lady. What if I stumble into him?”

“We will all be blindfolded, my dear. You're at no disadvantage unless your gentleman knows not what sound a cat should make. We will _all_ be stumbling into the men and making fools of ourselves.” Her warm thumb gently brushed against Sophie's chin. “You'll be fine. Aside from that, is it so bad to be kissed?”

“I...suppose not...” she mumbled. _Though it would be my first._ As daring as she often was, the prospect of having a stranger kiss her seemed to concern her.

“Good. Then it's settled. Onto the game.”

When the signal was given, a terrible cacophony of sounds seemed to come from everywhere at once. It was difficult for many of the women not bump into each other as they made their way forward toward the men who were making some of the most ridiculous noises that she supposed were meant to be those of some fairly odd animals. But when Sophie focused, shuffling her feet along the carpet and training her ear, she could not hear a single example of a “meow.” She frowned as giggles arose from around her and she moved into the center of the room as she knew it. One by one, animal sounds ceased and it was easier to detect cows and chickens, and even some turkeys. But no cats...

It dawned on her suddenly that she was the last of them and a hard lump rose in her throat. She could feel eyes upon her. “Well...this was a terrible trick upon me, wasn't it?” she asked to the quiet room.

Lady Whilton's voice was peevish from the side of the parlor. “Rather twisted of you, Porter. If you've no inclination to play then you shouldn't pick from the hat.”

_Of course. That is why I'm stuck standing in the middle of the room with all eyes upon me. It is a punishment. Well damn him to hell._ _I'll have my revenge upon you, Mr. Porter, and I'll make you sorry you ever toyed with me._

Sophie straightened her back. “Well then I suppose I must forfeit. And I will most certainly kiss a gentleman.”

Scents around her spiced with anticipation.

“You've been railroaded, my Lady,” Lady Whilton provided. “It would not be fair for you to forfeit. Obviously Mr. Porter is a wet blanket.”

Sophie tightened her lips, severely stating to the crowd, “Perhaps I will simply have to loosen him up.”

“Sophie,” her brother warned from the corner.

“Hush, Emmett. Mr. Porter? I do hope you kiss better than you play parlor games.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double Update? Shit like that never happens anymore. 
> 
> Bern getting called the fuck out. Sophie's playing hardball now.
> 
> **Up Next:** Somebody gonna get themselves kissed.


	10. Chapter 10

Despite everything that he thought was working against him, this was beyond his wildest imagination. To be humiliated by her in such a tender fashion was far more than he had anticipated. Where had this strange urge come from? This absolutely deviant behavior that he simply could not avoid? He wanted to be laid bare before her again but this was good enough, he supposed. He didn't even bother looking at anyone else in the room. They didn't really matter—they were only props with eyes that witnessed his fall from grace. Of course, that supposed that there was any grace for him to fall from originally. The only set of eyes that unnerved him were those of Broadspear himself. How could he feel about the Beta he'd kept away from the Omegas suddenly having a chance to kiss his very sister?

Even that was enough to arouse him. He stepped forward, his voice low. “Where would you like me, my Lady?”

“Right in front of me.” She pulled a fan from a discreet little pocket in her gown and fanned herself, spreading her sweet scent through the room and revealing herself to not only be content but even smug. There was not even a single trace of befuddlement or frustration in her scent and she well knew it for the way she made certain the crowd around her knew it as well. When he had stepped up to her, he waited for her to make the first move but she barked out another order at him instead, sending a tingle straight through him. “On your knees, Beta. You're a bit too tall for me.”

He smirked at her, admiring her blank blue eyes and the flecks of freckles that dusted across the bridge of her pretty nose. The honey blonde of her hair glinted in the warm lamplight and his fingers itched to run through it and release it from its pins to revel in her and worship her as a vengeful goddess. Lord he hated her...and Lord he _wanted_ her. Slowly, he sank to his knees, taking care to keep his eyes averted from her more feminine aspects should her brother be watching him overly.

_Whap!_

“Ouch!” he yelped, bringing his fingers up to his forehead where she'd smacked him hard with her closed fan.

“As much you deserve, you despicable dog.”

He grinned. “I believe Vandorlin was the dog. I was to be the _cat_ , my Lady.”

_Whap!_

“You're awful. I hope you're happy with yourself.” With surprising accuracy, she grasped his chin and held him still. His heart practically stopped in his chest and he could have moaned in the anticipation that consumed him for the few moments it took for her to lean in for her kiss. Her lips touched the side of his mouth, impossibly soft and the touch of them impossible to describe. His eyes closed in reverence to that sublime and punishing sweetness that was Lady Sophie. The first brush of her mouth against the side of his had been, as he had expected, an experimental touch and so, as she dipped closer she pressed her lips full against his while her fingers squeezed at his chin in a warning for him not to touch her or even respond.

Obediently he stayed still and quiet, allowing her to take what she wanted from him and then release him, his body humming with the knowledge that every single person in the room with them had witnessed a most wishful subjugation. He was far too distracted by her to even bother with how angry her brother must have been and so, after he cleared his throat, he asked her quietly, “May I stand up now, my Lady? Are you quite finished with me?”

“I am finished with you, yes. I think this game will be the most I'm willing to play. Thank you Lady Whilton, I believe I will retire.” She gave a general curtsy to the room and, with pink cheeks, she retreated from the parlor, leaving Bern on his knees and surrounded by everyone.

Bern barely had the time to get up when the collar of his waistcoat was gripped by a strong hand and he was hauled to his feet and taken out into the hall. With his back against the wall, he was pressed hard against the paper, Broadspear's eyes flashing with danger in front of him.

“ _What are you on about, Beta?_ ”

“I'm not certain I know what you mean,” he retorted weakly, his hands pushing against the Baron's arm near his throat.

“First you come to supper tonight and chat about my sister as though she's a madwoman and now here you are kissing her in my parlor.”

“Forgive me, Broadspear, but your sister was the one kissing me. She had her pick of gentlemen to choose from and she chose to punish me.”

The Alpha growled, “You deserve a _real_ punishment for how you humiliated her. What could she have done to you to make you do such a thing to her? I should hang you from the rafters by your toes, you ungrateful little prick!”

“Please, man, it was simply to get her in the spirit of things, how was I to know that she would choose me?” Even this wasn't enough to frighten him. The Baron almost seemed angry enough to shoot him and yet still, he was floating upon the euphoria of having been struck and kissed in a room full of people. “She's fiery, you know that. How am I to blame for how she chose to kiss?”

“She's never _been_ kissed before and here you are and you've stolen that from her!”

Her first kiss? He supposed he should have known that from her youthful fumbling and from the manner in which she had experimented upon him first. Delicate and sweet and unendingly sassy, she was a wonder of an Omega who brimmed with personality. That she should waste her first kiss on a bounder like him was giving him an odd buzzing sensation in his guts. He felt damned privileged. He felt damned _lucky_.

“Stop smiling about it, you git. I swear to god, I should _gut you_.”

“Emmett!”

The two of them snapped their attentions to the very subject of their argument who stood straight with her arms crossed disapprovingly.

“You let Mr. Porter go right this instant. He's not _stolen_ anything from me and you're not the man who should be concerned one whit about my honor or my reputation. Let the poor Beta go and go back to your damned party. I'll kiss who I like and you can succumb to your indignation without having made such a fuss about it within earshot.

Bern found himself freed suddenly. So suddenly, in fact, that he had to stumble a bit to the side, using the wall for support. Broadspear didn't speak again, opting to stalk off back into the parlor without talking to either of them and leaving them both in the hallway together alone.

Lady Sophie took a few steps toward him. “He'll cool off. I wouldn't worry about him.”

“I'm not,” he grumbled, brushing himself off.

“Well I don't suppose you worry about much of anything,” she said. “Unless it's your dismal finances.”

“What do you know about my finances?”

“You're a desperate man, are you not? To weasel your way into my brother's schemes?”

“So you admit that they are schemes?”

She sniffed a laugh. “No. But clearly you do. You're still trying to push into them, aren't you? Your money must be a problem for you. Perhaps you could make a killing shoving all your funds into whatever my brother has going on and so you're out to find out if it's worth it. All of you are predictable and boring. All you ever worry about is money. You never worry about people.”

“Why should I worry about people?” This was good, he thought. The further she was from the truth, the better of a chance he would have at keeping his skin when this was all said and done. How he would ever forget her though...he didn't think he had the strength for that.

“Why shouldn't you worry about people? I'm not certain if I have the time or the energy to explain to anyone why they should go out of their way to care about someone else.”

“Someone else or _everyone_ else?” He put a finger under his cravat, suddenly under the impression that it was too tight.

“Everyone. Although starting with one isn't all that terrible of an idea. Is there anyone you particularly care for, Mr. Porter?”

“I don't think this conversation is one to have in the middle of a corridor.”

“Why? Is it so sensitive a subject?”

His lips thinned.

“More sensitive than how you enjoy your women, Mr. Porter?”

“You know nothing of how I enjoy my women, my Lady, and I daresay that for you to manage to spread about whatever it is you think you know would be to admit to everyone that you're fit for the asylum.”

“Is your deviance not enough for you to come along with me? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Perhaps they'd let me flog you just to get it out of your system.” She was grinning, her teeth straight and perfect in her narrow mouth. “I have to admit, I think I'll miss you after this week is over Mr. Porter. I did enjoy hitting you.”

 _Probably not as much as I enjoyed being hit._ “You're a twisted woman, Lady Sophie.”

“And you're a devilish Beta. I'm so amused by you. Tell me, have you come across anything yet?”

“Do you ask because you cannot read his letters and you think me scandalous enough to further try my luck against your whip?”

“Perhaps I do.”

“Then you really are meant for Bensham, my Lady. I will not do you any favors. I care not to find myself drugged and left to be found by curious Alphas in parlors.”

She came forward and gripped his sleeve, pulling him into a nearby room that was warm from the breeze flowing through the window but dark as there were no lamps nor candles lit inside. She shut the door and faced him, at ease in the dark. She touched him again and it was as though shocks rippled through his body when she took one of his hands and held it to emphasize her next words. “Perhaps, Mr. Porter, next time I shall simply leave you in my bed.”

“Are you mad, Omega?”

“Perhaps I am. Read to me from Emmett's letters so that I may know he is a villain or not and I will whip you however much you like.”

He balked. “Unbelievable. Absolutely not. That is ridiculous and I cannot believe you've uttered a single word of it.”

She took his arms in her hands and it was as if she were the strongest of Alphas when she did so, the power of her touch keeping him still. “I know the raw power of a man's needs. That you're a Beta means nothing—you are just as odd as the rest of them.”

“You cannot think I would agree to something so patently absurd. Your brother would skin me alive.”

“My brother would skin you alive for your indiscretions already.”

“You know not what you ask for, my Lady. A man's passions are not to be trifled with.”

“Who is trifling? I am perfectly serious.” Her hands slid up from his arms and her palms settled upon his chest just below his collarbones, her body leaning into him as her sweet scent enveloped him. “Do you wish for an affair? I've never done such things before though I do not doubt my ability to act...”

Bern finally found the strength to pull her from him, holding her wrists away. “Do not patronize me, Omega. I need nothing from you and to go along with such an insane proposition would leave me truly the villain in all of this. Good lord, what a nightmare this all is. If you merely do not wish for me to be here, then I will leave, Lady Sophie. Is that what you wish? That I go?”

“No...”

“You hate me, do you not?”

“I hate that you've come to me and cast doubt over the goodness of my brother.”

“Your brother, the righteous and the just who deflowers Omegas at the folly in the middle of your garden,” he stated flatly. He couldn't see her cheeks through the darkness but he was certain they were flushed from how her scent altered with embarrassment. “You worry that I'm right.”

“I worry that he is a puppet for someone.”

“He mentioned that he was merely a mouthpiece for someone he referred to as an 'agent' running the show. Should we find out who this agent is, we could have more details as to what it is that your brother has gotten mixed up in. With that, it should be a decently open and shut little case.”

She thought for a few moments, her face tensed up with thoughts. “You...you are not a desperate man at all, are you Mr. Porter?”

He smiled. “No, Lady Sophie. I am not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for keeping her in the dark. *badum-chsh*
> 
> Sorry for the delay, been working on a few projects and mostly drabbles. Also: Red Dead Redemption 2. It's a weakness.


	11. Chapter 11

He was a complex man and it was this that vexed her more than anything else about him. Most people were simple. They had simple wants and simple needs and simple thoughts. They liked money, sex, or control. Mr. Porter—this Beta of all men—was not a simple man and this was what was driving her thoughts into knots. How could he be such a paradox? Men were usually so cut and dry—what in the world could his motive be? If he was not a man of questionable means then why bother going to such lengths? Still—he had planted the seed in her mind. If Emmett was up to something nefarious and he was used as a hand in some dubious operation, he could be in some kind of trouble. This was something Sophie could not ignore and it was not something she was willing to accept.

“Kerridan, I swear to you, Emmett is in some kind of danger and I simply must know.”

“This is where I will stop you, my Lady. It is where I put my foot down. Your brother has made some serious financial mistakes in the past and it is his own business what he does with whatever he has left.”

“That is not true in the slightest and you know it. All of our fates are tied to his estate and his money. If he drives himself into the ground then he does so to us as well.” She was pacing back and forth. It was near to midnight and the house was filled to the brim with lovers who were stashing themselves away in the far corners of the house. Now was the time to strike provided none of the errant Alphas had decided her brother's study was the place to take his liberties. “Fine then. If that's how you feel.” She took off her dressing gown and got into bed, huffing down into the pillows of her small nest and covering herself completely with the heavy counterpane.

Kerridan sighed and she heard him turn down the lamp and finish his folding before he left, the door clicking behind him. Her sharp ears picked up his steps in the outside hall and when he was gone for certain, she whipped off the covers and put her feet down on the floor again. She groped for her dressing gown and wrapped it about herself. If Kerridan wasn't going to help her then she was going to have to help herself and that meant getting Mr. Porter to agree to a deal. She had tried before and failed—something that was nearly unheard of when it came to the way she conducted her plans. There was a fatal flaw and she recognized it: motive. Since she couldn't seem to pinpoint exactly what the man's motive was, she couldn't be certain of how to deal with him as an obstacle.

He was _not_ in dire straits financially, cutting down the motive that he was desperate for a windfall. So why in the world was he so interested in what Emmett was up to? And why, if faced with the potential for his odd pleasure, would he forgo the opportunity to receive the same treatment? It could not be common to find a woman willing to do something so deeply deviant for _free_ , could it?

She pattered on down the halls, listening for any errant servants or guests as she sniffed at every door until she found the one that called back to her the mild and pleasant scent of dear Mr. Porter who had rebuffed her and chaffed at her sensibilities. Finding his door unlocked, she dared to open it, slipping inside and clicking it shut behind her.

“My Lady,” he spoke, startling her a little. His tone was flat and unamused. “What in God's name are you doing here?”

Feeling rather breathless having been under the assumption that the man was the type to enjoy an early night, she struggled to find her words, “Uhm...well...I...”

“I told you I've no need for you.” He sounded almost distracted, as though perhaps he was reading a book and couldn't be bothered with her. “If you're here with another suggestion rather than the inappropriate one you cooked up earlier, you may tell me and then leave immediately. I've no need to be harassed further.”

“Perhaps,” she shot back, suddenly finding her words, “you lie to me, good sir. We both know you're rather fond of being harassed.”

He sighed and she heard the organic flop of his book being slapped together. “You try me, little woman.”

“I am more than a woman, sir.”

“Yes. An Omega and a shrew. You want me to read your brother's letters to you. So now you will allow me access to his study without interruption if only I will read them aloud to you? How shall we know that we will not be interrupted?”

“I know where he hides the key, sir.”

“Do you?”

“Do you truly wish to invest in African mines, Mr. Porter?”

“Perhaps I do. Does that surprise you, little one?”

“Yes. You don't seem the type.”

He chuckled, the sound inexplicably providing her with an ample amount of gooseflesh. “And what type is it that invests in African mines?”

“Unscrupulous men, Mr. Porter. Not men like you.”

“What am I, Lady Sophie? If not unscrupulous, then what word should you use to describe me?”

She thought for a moment and then shrugged. “Bizarre.”

His smile was in his voice. “Bizarre? I suppose it must fit. I am a bit strange to plenty of folks. Especially you Omegas.”

“I cannot quite pin you down, Mr. Porter...at least, not your mind.” She smelled his scent's shift at her cheeky response. “Come with me. Come read to me. I do like your voice, you know. It has a mild undulating sweep to it that comes from a life of refinement. It's...well, it's rather attractive. Not that you should allow that to go to your head. You're still a villain, Mr. Porter.”

He chuckled again and she was alarmed to find her body tingling with it. “Vexing you, am I? One day I'll learn how to vex you to the extent that you have vexed me. For now, I think I'll simply take you up on your offer...that is your offer of company—not of anything else. Perhaps proving your brother a scoundrel should vex you enough.”

“You will not prove my brother a scoundrel.”

“If it were not possible, you would not think to be worried about it.”

She huffed, crossing her arms and moving closer to the warmth of the fire so that her bare toes could be warmed by it. “It is distinctly possible.”

“Ah, so you finally admit as to how easily one could assume it were true.”

“Who is assuming the worst? You, sir? Of course you are. It must be your nature.” She sniffed. “Boring Betas.”

“You are absolute hellfire, do you know that?”

“Of course I know that. Are you going to get up and help me or are you going to sit there like the dullard you are?”

The chair he was in squeaked as he got up and she heard the book make a soft thunk against the upholstery. She led him, sneaking down the halls though there was no one about until they were safely in Emmett's study, this room significantly cooler than the others as there was not even a low fire in the grate. She heard the squeak of one of the lamps and Porter's soft sigh as he sat down at Emmett's desk.

“Perhaps some of the papers in the drawer there,” she suggested softly.

“Thank you, my Lady. I will peruse them at my leisure if you will only just lock the door. And if I find that this is a trap and that you will shoot me with your brother's dueling pistol, I'll be very cross indeed.”

“Cross? You would be dead. And I would not dare bring you in here where they would assume my brother had done it.”

“Yes. A _blind woman_ would most _certainly_ mortally wound me,” he replied, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Have you even shot a pistol before?”

“I daresay I might surprise you with that answer, sir.”

“Only a madman would give you a gun, my Lady.”

She giggled even as she moved to the cupboard and felt around the back of it, sweeping the key from behind and then locking the door and leaving the key in the hole. “You've plenty of time, Mr. Porter. Now begin. I am an impatient sort.” She moved to her favorite chair and sat, leaning her chin upon her hand and her elbow against the armrest.

“You appear as though you are about to enjoy a bedtime tale.” Papers schiffed about and she heard him take another sigh as he began to read by the lamplight. Minutes passed and more papers shuffled along the desktop before he made a soft “ah” sound. “Hmm, seems as though it could be something...”

“What, what is it?”

“Oh...hmm, nothing of import.”

She wilted down, resting again. Despite that finding something would have meant her brother's ruin, she couldn't help but feel completely and entirely invested in the cause. To come all this way and to have offered what she had only to find out that there was nothing after all? Though there would be relief, she would also have to live with the knowledge that she had doubted her brother's morals for _nothing at all_. How easily could she be swayed by a mere stranger after this? Was she really a madwoman?

“I can scent that you're anxious. I've only found related documents. Nothing incriminating. Not that he would leave such things out on top of his desk. Perhaps he was in the middle of writing something...” A drawer squeaked open and she recognized it to be the shallow one at the front of the desk over the lap. “Oh yes...he was.” He cleared his throat. “ _Dear M, I believe I've found a sizable sum for you in the pockets of a rather plain gentleman who's unexpectedly crossed my path after having heard of your unique opportunities. It should not be so difficult for me to convince him to offer a sizable sum in advance and this, I assure you, shall be enough to buy my debt from you with all interest paid. You will find the sum enclosed in my next parcel to your shipping office. From that point, I urge you not to contact me again, as I have likely corroded all other avenues and you can rest assured that you have certainly brought me to the brink of ruin. There is no more of me that you can take for my friends will abandon me and my estate shall be..._ ” His voice trailed and the silence in the study was absolutely deafening.

Sophie found that she had been holding her breath. Sucking in a new one afresh, she gripped the armrest of the chair, her fingernails biting into the fabric. “He did not finish his sentence?!”

Porter took in a breath as though he were about to explain and then sighed instead.

“Mr. Porter?”

“It...it seems that you are to lose your home, my Lady.”

Sophie felt a strange numbness creep into her fingertips and spread through her body as though she were immersed suddenly in an ice bath.

“I...I don't know what to say. I'm...I'm sorry. It seems that he's got more creditors than he's got friends and this mysterious _M_ is simply one of them...a more _unprincipled_ creditor but a creditor all the same. It's not an investment, it's a way to scam his friends into paying off his debts.”

Sophie had never seen a color after she'd lost her sight but she could swear that everything was tinged a bit with _red_. “I swear to god,” she said softly into the darkness, “I'll kill him.”

“Perhaps a bit of an overly aggressive choice,” he breathed. “Do you have any family that will take you in? I'm certain that eventually your brother will be...unavailable...to care for you.”

“You mean to tell me he'll be languishing in prison and dying of consumption. How very tactful of you, Mr. Porter, to use the term ' _unavailable_ ' as not to offend my girlish sensibilities.” Rage was still coursing through her and she made the attempt to stand, her whole body still thrumming with numbness. “I swear it, Mr. Porter, I will slit his throat tonight. Family? To take me in? No. I do not have family to take me in. I have him. I have Emmett. He promised my mother that he would care for me as I clearly do not have the means to care for myself and here he is, a wreck of a man and he's driven all of us into despair and it's taken you... _you_ , you hateful man, to bring it all out into the open.” She felt tears well up and spill, her voice choked by the lump in her throat while she sniffled around it. “I wish you had never come...”

“The result would be the same, my Lady. You would merely be the last to know of it. When they came for you and left you on the street...then you would know. Or perhaps your brother would have been merciful and would have put you down before he placed the muzzle of his dueling pistol into his own mouth.”

Sophie hadn't known that heartbreak could feel so genuinely terrible. “You're _despicable._ ”

His voice was soft and suddenly he was close to her, his calm and mild scent around her. “I thought you'd decided upon 'bizarre'.”

“Get away from me.”

“Sophie...”

“Don't say my name.”

“Please... _Sophie_.”

She fell into him, gripping his waistcoat hard and burying her face into his shoulder while great, lingering sobs racked her body and her legs grew weak. He held her up, his arms tight around her body and his scent like that of dusty petrichor. She needed this, she thought blankly as she wept into him. She could not remember the last time she had let herself be vulnerable—truly vulnerable—and now it was here and with _him_. It was easy to blame him as he had come to strip bare the rot beneath the fragile structure of her life. Nothing could be so easy, she supposed. She didn't fight him when he reached down and hooked his arm under her knees so that he could carry her and when she was back in her room with him, she held him tight.

“Sophie, your bed...”

“ _Don't leave me._ ”

“You hate me, little one. I'm hardly the one you should be weeping into.”

She sniffed and pressed her nose against his throat as if his scent could calm her. “You are the only man who knows exactly what is so terribly wrong. What has come to twist and wring at my soul.”

“I did not truly wish to find something. I am not a cruel man.”

She rested the side of her head against his collarbone. “I know, Mr. Porter. I know...but you should not leave me. Not tonight. For I will kill him if you leave me, so great is my despair.”

“A merciful end to him,” he supplied, puzzling her as he shifted his face toward her and pressed his lips to her hair to kiss her. “But not so merciful for you.”

“Please stay with me.”

“I will leave before daybreak.”

“Will I see you again?”

He paused for a moment only but it was enough to cause her doubt and break her heart all over again. “We will see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot progression? In _my_ fic? It's more likely than you think.


	12. Chapter 12

She was so vulnerable in those few moments that Bern nearly forgot who she was. A volatile and explosive Omega who happened to be the victim of her circumstances—it was a dangerous night and still he was here in the middle of it all and with her in her room as though that were not the most risky venture he'd ever embarked upon in his life. He'd always been the type to eschew this sort of thing, to assume that those who fed into this sort of nonsense were the type of men who felts some kind of gratification over cheating death. But now? With Sophie in his arms, he couldn't believe who he'd become. A man who would throw everything into the ring if it meant that he could pretend for only a few hours that she could be his.

Sophie brooked no arguments and soon she was no longer weeping but wiping the tears from her cheeks as she urged him to undress. She was on her knees at the edge of her bed and he was standing before her while she touched him roughly.

“My Lady...it's not prudent...”

“Shut up. What the devil is your name?”

“Bernard...Bern.”

“Bern?” She seemed to think for a second, her face softening only a little before she ran her hands over his shoulders, creeping them to his neck before the graze of her fingertips became soft and she very gently studied his face. Every brush of her fingers set him afire, each spark over the flesh of his face like the strike of a match in a dark room. She studied him, her thumbs tracing his brows and the sensitive skin beneath his eyes. It was impossible not to lean into her touch when she cupped his face and he sighed in his satisfaction. She murmured soft and low. “My brother was not so generous to you. He called you plain.”

He smiled. “What do you think to gain from flattering me?”

“Is that not how the Alphas disrobe the Omegas?” She sniffled, wiping up fresh tears and rubbing at her red little nose. “Would you be so kind as to give me my kerchief? It's on the table there.”

He reached out and plucked it up, gently using it to dab at her cheeks which startled her only a little. When she reached up, she touched his hand and he could not resist the urge to cup her jaw and swoop down to press his lips against hers.

“ _Bernard..._ ”

“Was that overly forward of me?” he whispered over her lips. “To take not only your first kiss but your second...I truly must be a villain.” Her scent was sweet despite her despair and the lush fullness of it coupled with the way her honey hair glinted in the moonlight through the window to make his body tight with arousal. He had never seen her hair this way, swept to the side and braided over her bird-boned little shoulder. He trailed the backs of his fingers against it, shuddering at her sheer perfection.

Sophie brashly surged forward, grasping his cheeks in her hands to guide him before she mashed her lips against his and clawed at him to bring him closer. Her fervor was contagious and despite her inexperience in the matter, he found her attempts on the whole to be more than he could have dreamed. She held him and grasped at him and clawed at him as though she were daring him to try to escape her though he could not have even if he had wanted to so deeply did he feel his potent desire for her. Her body was warm beneath the thin fabric of her dressing gown and her nightgown beneath that and he could feel the gentle give of her as he placed his hands upon her waist.

_She still hates you, Bern Porter._

The savage tone of his own inner voice ravaged him. It didn't matter. She was here now and she was pushing him down with her hands on his chest, guiding him to her bed and pulling at his shirt until he would help her. Of course he helped her, how could he resist her? She mapped out every inch of skin she revealed, her hands warm and her touch searching. She pinned down one of his wrists and, as he chuckled at her, she fastened the leather constraints she had clearly not taken off her bed.

“Still hellfire,” he murmured up at her.

“Oh yes...” she replied softly, “forever and always.” She pinned down his other wrist with no resistance from him and then placed one of her small, delicate hands upon his throat. “My greatest regret of all of this is that I cannot rest any blame upon you, Bern.”

“Such an outcome would have been far too convenient.”

Sophie's hands moved over him again until she found his trousers and he had to hold his breath to keep from crying out when she expertly removed them, sliding them down his thighs along with his drawers. The musky scent of his arousal was, as always, mild but painfully obvious as it mixed with her sweetness in the warm air of her bedchamber.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Do you want me, Bern?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“I'm willing, you know...to give myself to you.”

“I don't believe that for a second. Whatever you're doing, you're not giving. You're taking. You don't let go of your control that easy and don't you ever think I don't know what you're doing, little one.”

She slapped him. _Hard._ He tasted blood from where his teeth cut his bottom lip and even while the sting still prickled he examined it with his tongue and hissed against the rampant flood of rage and arousal which rushed within him. Quickly, Sophie moved straddle him, and it was when the heat of her core pulsed over his shaft that he realized she wasn't wearing any drawers under her nightgown which was now rucked up to her thighs. She slapped him again though this time not quite so hard.

“ _Sophie..._ ” he sighed, straining his hips upward to press insistently against her wet heat. “You've never done this before. Do you know anything of what you're doing?”

Her nails raked down his chest and he hissed through his teeth before he growled loudly with pain, staring down at himself in the moonlight to see tiny black beads of his blood prickle through his flesh where she'd clawed him. “ _Don't tell me what to do._ ”

“Mmrgh,” he groaned, letting his head fall back upon his pillow and breathing through the pain. God, he loved it, he thought wildly. He loved every moment of it, being splayed out beneath her and subject to her whims. He adored the way she hurt him and he loved even more the way she followed the punishment with soft caresses.

“I wish you'd never come,” she snarled. “I wish you'd kept your nose out of everything. I wish there had been nothing for you to find!” She slapped him again before she moved her shaking hands between her thighs and carefully moved him. It took her some trial and error and it was more than once that she found herself spitting out some choice curses before she was able to slide the tip of Bern's straining shaft just beyond the damp rim of her, stretching her open gradually as she set the pace. For Bern, it was heaven and hell, the feel of her body gripping him tight and the knowledge that he could be _all the way_ inside her.

“ _Sophie..._ ” he gasped and sighed.

“Shut up,” she breathed, her voice trembling as she maneuvered backwards, her body giving out nervous shudders as her scent undulated between despair, rage, and a divine pleasure she got probably exclusively from showing him who was boss here. She inched herself down over him, filling herself and taking stock of the unique sensation with her eyes closed—as if even she needed to do so for the sake of her concentration. “It's funny, you know...” she murmured as she slid him all the way inside her, “From how much of this goes on in this house, you would think it would be far more pleasurable than this.”

Bern let loose a tense little chuckle. “You've no idea, little one. It can be...immensely pleasurable.”

She put her small hand against his throat, experimentally putting pressure on his windpipe as he stared up at her and examined her curious expression.

“Go ahead,” he whispered. “You want to. I know you do. Just don't get too excited and kill me.”

She leaned and squeezed and Bern's heart raced under her other hand, his scent a mixture of apprehension and arousal that must have emboldened her for she gradually increased her pressure while she undulated her hips, rocking forward and backward to send waves of pleasure through him.

“ _Uhuk..._ ” he choked, pulling on his restraints as he lost all of his breath under the weight of her hand. The cloud that came over him was slow and, dare he think it, sensual. The heat and pleasure that weighted his consciousness floated to the top of the deep, dark pool and as his mouth worked for air and his eyesight faded, he writhed beneath her, thrusting his hips as if to dislodge her.

“ _B-Beta..._ ” he heard somewhere in the murk and suddenly her grip was gone and he had the chance to take in great swooping lungfuls of air. The sudden influx of breath forced a wave of intense pleasure through him as the mire cleared.

“S-Sophie,” he gasped. “Do it...do it again!”

She slapped him and he groaned, bucking her hard as a punishment—or perhaps a payment?—for her audacity. In response, she gasped, her moan soft and shocked and her scent unbelievably aroused. “ _Ohh..._ ” Leaning over him, she sought to recreate the motion with her own hips, jerking in surprise when Bern moved with her. “ _Hunh, hunh!_ ”

“Oh my god,” he growled, his voice raspy and unfocused. “Sophie...Sophie...”

“Don't say my name,” she told him, her voice unconvincing and wavering as she worked herself up and down over him. “Don't... pretend like...” Her voice trailed off as she huffed for breath in her exertion, still rocking over him as he bucked up. Her hand trailed over his body and stopped again to ring his throat, pressing downward until he'd lost his breath again. To his hazy mind, her voice warbled. “ _Don't pretend like...we're lovers._ ”

She almost didn't let off in time.

“ _Khk!_ ” was the only sound he could make and it seemed to be enough, air whooshing into him with a harsh gasp just as the mounting pressure in his loins became unbearable, sweeping him out to sea as a rogue current. “ _Ahhn!_ ” he cried, losing his composure completely as his body shook and trembled with his most excruciating climax.

“Is that...” Sophie panted, “Is that...all you're...good for?”

He caught his breath, gasping and panting to recover while he tried to form his reply. “Perhaps...you come and put your sweet little muff to my mouth and we'll see what I'm really good for.”

“ _Pardon me?_ ”

“Come up here and put my mouth between your legs, Omega.”

“Don't tell me what to do!”

He bucked upwards once harshly to punish her, taking delight in her squeak of surprise. “If you want to know what I'm good for, you can beat me, slap me, whip me, and choke me. That or you can take your _real_ pleasure by sitting on my goddamned face!”

She slapped him again and he tasted blood but felt her shift suddenly, carefully maneuvering so that she might be in the correct position for what he suggested. Her fingers trailed over his face, making certain she knew where his lips were so that she could lower herself down to him properly. “I...I don't know what you could hope to accomplish, Beta...but...”

He raised his head for a moment, his tongue sweeping out of his mouth and over the sweet pink hidden within her dark honey curls.

“This cannot be right,” she gasped.

“Make me worship you,” he groaned against her before he sealed his lips around the center of her and suckled gently.

“ _Mr. Porter!_ ”

His lips popped off of her with an erotic kiss. “Bern.”

Sophie grabbed his hair, the pull both painful and sweet. “I don't know if I can do this.”

“I know you can. You can do anything you want to me.” After having stated his case, he returned to his endeavor, sliding his tongue as far as he could inside her before he withdrew and focused as best he could upon the most sensitive and wicked morsel of her at the top of her sex. Her weight came down over him and she moaned loudly, her vocalizations matching perfectly to the spicy tang of her sweet Omega fragrance which easily overpowered his own mild scent. The musk of her and the sweetness of her feminine dew was enough to send him into a deep and persistent frenzy. Befuddling, it was, as he was never so wild. Still, he was stiff again and pulling against the restraints, wishing that he could hold her down to him and give her everything he was capable of.

“ _Bern! Bern!_ ” she cried, her hands grasping and pulling at his hair painfully while she nearly sobbed as she shuddered above him. “ _What is...what is this? How? I will...I will..._ ” She gasped and cried out, near to shrieking and still she held him to her. Her peak struck her as he was enthusiastically fluttering his tongue against her and her scream was of no surprise to him when she came and shattered the quietude that had befallen the manor. “ _Uhn, hunh, hunh,_ ” she panted, her body shivering in the aftermath. Weak and unsteady, she climbed off of him and suddenly he was cold without her.

“Sophie?” He watched her stumble a bit when she left the bed, her hands out until they met the wall which she leaned heavily upon until she sank to the floor. “Sophie?”

She sat with her head against the wallpaper for a few seconds as she composed herself and then, when she was finished, she gathered herself up and stood, her dressing gown and nightgown rumpled below her waist and the caramel sugar of her climax still clinging to the air. When her breaths had evened out again, he watched her come to the side of the bed and feel for the edge of the counterpane which she then tore out from underneath him so that she could climb under it with him, her body still trembling when she curled against him, her head nestled in the nook of his shoulder.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Bern asked softly into her hair.

“No.”

“Very well.” He sighed. “Please untie me, Sophie.”

“Only if you promise not to touch me.”

He sighed again, his heart touched with an odd melancholy. “I promise, my Lady. I will not touch you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tfw you have to add "hate sex" to your tags.


	13. Chapter 13

Wagner was drinking coffee in the middle of the afternoon and was sitting with his feet up upon one of Bern's other chairs, taking in the birdsong as he lounged with his cousin behind the townhouse. He had his eyes closed and Bern could tell he hadn't a care in the world as his only major job had been fully taken care of and he'd been handsomely rewarded. Of course, he didn't feel the strain of having outed Emmett Nolan for what he really was—no, that was shouldered purely by Bern who glowered into his tea cup.

“I don't know how you can be so smug,” Bern grumbled.

“I don't know how you can't be. After all, you're the one who managed to kiss that beautiful little minx. Tell you what, it doesn't matter a whit to me that she can't see. Better for it, probably. Wouldn't be all caught up in what a handsome man was supposed to be. She'd see you for who you really were.”

“Yes, she saw me as the villain I am,” he replied. “Don't tell me how it's all going, I don't think I can stand to know.”

“You mean how several peers have been so vocal about my success that they've put in a good word to the Crown?”

“ _What?!_ ” Bern snapped.

“I'm only kidding you, cousin, settle yourself. My, we are in a _touchy_ mood this morning, aren't we?” He laughed gruffly as he took a sip of his coffee. “No, no. Nobody's heard of any exploits. Not that I know of, anyhow. Though they've all heard of Emmett Nolan's doom. It's been plastered all over those society rags.” His laugh tapered into a chuckle. “Really too bad about the minx.”

“Don't remind me.”

Urwin appeared suddenly from the french doors, his hands held behind him and his back stiff and mannerly. “Sir? A Lady Sophia Nolan to see you. She's in the parlor.”

Wagner flashed him an excited glance. “Speak of the _devil_. What brilliant luck, I'll finally meet this dashing blind mistress of yours!”

“She's not my mistress and you'll not meet her. I forbid you from coming anywhere near her. You're a brutal savage but the girl will tear you to pieces and I can't have that on my conscience.” With no doubt in his words, he stood and brushed himself off, pointing his finger to his cousin as one final warning for him to stay where he was.

Once he was alone and hidden in the hall, he took a deep breath. It had been three months. Broadspear's fraud had been exposed and his crimes made public. His good name had been drawn through the mud and the muck of the papers, and his estate was to be parceled out to each of those who he had misled. But where did that leave everyone else? His servants had been dismissed, his manor home abandoned, and his sister...

Well his sister was sitting quietly in Bernard Porter's parlor.

Urwin came to him discreetly, a rare concern in his eyes. “Sir, I can tell her you're unavailable.”

“No. No, please. Thank you, Urwin. But this is inevitable, I suppose. I must reap what I've sown.”

“Very well, sir.” There was a pride in Urwin's tone and for once it didn't irk him.

He gathered himself, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand as he walked toward his parlor, completely unsure of what he was going to say to the woman who had flipped his entire life upside down. For the past three months, he'd been unable to sleep without dreaming of her, unable to take a spare moment without slipping off to his memories of her... She was with him all the time, haunting him with that cunning wit and the fierce determination of an Omega on the rise. He could smell her sweetness even before he came into the parlor and it tightened his loins and put fire in his blood.

She was tense, sitting with her knees tight together in a black mourning gown with a netted veil over her eyes and black feathers in her hair that fanned out as if a raven's wing. Her silky black gloved hands tightened on the fan in her lap as she scented him. Her nose was so sensitive, he thought, that she could practically see him.

“Mr. Porter,” she greeted.

“Black, my Lady?”

“I bought it with my pin money. It seemed fitting to wear it since Emmett...”

Bern paused just inside the door, his heart dropping into his bowels as his eyes closed with a particular sort of pain. “I...I'm sorry, my Lady. No one informed me.”

“He hasn't shot himself yet but with the way he's been carrying on, I expect someone will notify me eventually.”

“Well that's a dismal view of it, isn't it?”

“I fear he's done what a fair amount of young men do when they must face the music,” she sighed. “They don't. That's the trouble with being raised like an utter fool as Emmett was...and as I suppose I was. I was far to naïve and he was far too arrogant.”

“Perhaps it was the other way around sometimes, was it not?” Bern joked, his humor a small attempt to lighten the dimness in her scent.

Her mouth tilted up on one side. “Yes. Anyhow, he's fled. To America. I expect I'll find news of his demise eventually.”

“And the estate?”

“It will be parceled out. If you're interested in it, I'm certain Mr. Wigg, our solicitor, could aid you. It will be sold to pay for Emmett's debts and his fraud against his friends.”

He closed his eyes. “I'm sorry, Sophie. You're here to rub my nose in the mess I've made of your life and consider it well-rubbed. I cannot say that this would not have happened. It has only happened sooner now. You understand.”

She opened her black fan and fluttered it toward herself, spreading the gentle musk of her sadness. “Yes. I understand. But what I have come to you for is a result of it and I cannot ask you to take any sort of responsibility, but you're the only man that I know who...who may...” She trailed off, her fan slapping into her lap. “Well, I should get down to it, Mr. Porter, you're the only man who knows, truly knows, what I am up against. I am _alone_. I am _utterly alone_.” He could see the glittering of tears as they came to her sightless eyes but did not spill. “I'm... _afraid._ ”

Sophie had claimed that she had no relatives—that she had only Emmett. The likelihood that she be taken to a poor house or an asylum was great. She could not be a lady's companion, she could not become a seamstress or a lady's maid or even a courtesan. She was, honestly, alone in the world without a single advocate. There was no one to help her, no one to guide her, and these three months had found her tired-looking and worn.

“My Lady,” he said softly, walking toward her and then thinking better of it and crossing the room to pour himself a bracing glass of brandy. “Should you like some sherry?”

“I cannot even think to drink...to eat! _Bernard!_ ” she cried, her voice rasping with her unshed tears, “ _Please._ ”

His hands were trembling as he poured. “Sophie, I don't know what you're asking of me.”

She paused, giving out soft little sobs as her tears fell over her cheeks. “ _Beta, please...please marry me._ ”

Bern felt a bizarre numbness seep into his hands and his feet, creeping up his arms and causing him to feel a coldness that crept down to his very bones. _Marry?_ He couldn't breathe for a few seconds and he turned to look at her with his brandy in his hand, leaning against the side cupboard as his knees felt as though they would give beneath him.

She let out another sob. “Is it so objectionable to you? To be torn apart by my utter madness just the way you like? Whenever you wish? Is such a thing suitable only for a country whore and not your pretty, doting little wife?”

“Sophie...”

“Shut up, you festering demon,” she replied weakly. “I can't stand you.”

His jaw was slack, his mouth hanging open in his shock. How in the world could a woman who hated him be so adamant that they should marry? Of course, he understood that it was all for her very _survival_ rather than anything else and he could appreciate that at the very least. “Sophie, goddamn you, listen to me. You must be out of your mind.”

“I _must be!_ ” she yelled out, pulling out her handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. “I must be the most lunatic woman in all of England to think that a man like yourself would pity me enough to marry me. Would think perhaps that his deviant fantasies were enough to take on a wife of such dubious means and hideous scandal.”

“I assure you, my Lady, scandal cannot follow a mere tick upon the page of the society papers...they barely know you exist...but you...you _hate me._ ”

“I do. I do hate you. I'll hate you until you die.”

He wiped his mouth with his hand, still in shocked disbelief. Marriage? To Sophie Nolan? God he wanted her. He wanted her in his bed so badly that he thrummed with it. He wanted to suffer at her hands and feel her punishing grip over his throat. He wanted to...he wanted to treat her like his queen. He wanted to wipe her tears away and lift her from the muck that she was trapped within and give her everything and the world. He wanted to coat her in gold and jewels and all the fanciest feathers and show every Alpha in London that there was a gold band upon her finger for they could never fathom that Bern Porter would ever have the luck to find such a pearl in the ocean. Then he wanted to go home and feel the sting of her words and her whip.

He was horribly aroused and he knew that she could smell it. It only served to make him harder for the knowledge. He licked his lips.

“I know you're considering it,” she told him, gathering herself. “You do want that, don't you? To have me? To use me for your deviant ends.”

A discordant note strummed through his head. “No.”

“...No?” she asked in a small voice.

“No. I don't wish that. I...I can't marry you, Sophie. Not like this.” His mind and body were screaming at him but it seemed as though his heart was taking the reins. _Why am I saying this? I want her. I know I do...why can't I have her? Why can't I just let myself have her? She's offering herself up upon a silver platter and there I am and all I need do is reach out and pluck her up and she would be mine...and yet..._ “I'm sorry, Sophie...I cannot marry you only to save you.”

“Have you no compassion?” she whispered.

“I do. Perhaps too much. Which is why I cannot even think to allow you to do this sort of thing to yourself. I cannot take advantage of you in this manner. It is for that reason that I must tell you that you are welcome to stay here, you are welcome to my home and to my company if you wish to have it. But I cannot marry you...not like this.”

She seemed almost despondent, her eyes unseeing as she paused and her face lost all expression. Her voice was so weak and small that his heart could break for it. “I have lost everything...but tell me I have not lost you.”

He came to her, standing before her but not touching her. “Sophie, you have not lost me. Should you wish it, you will never lose me. But I cannot marry a woman who does not love me.”

“I could never love you.”

Bern swallowed, hurt though he couldn't tell quite why. It was expected, was it not? “Then I suppose you must make do with this, then. If you do not find it agreeable then you may find yourself at home in London...in my town home. Do you have your lady's maid?”

“I did not have one...I had...Kerridan...”

“A Beta man? How unusual. Is he still in your employ?”

“No...”

Bern swallowed. “Alright...well, we will take care of everything then, will we not?” As he expected, when he looked up toward the doorway, Urwin was standing at attention, his face that of stone.

“Of course, sir,” he stated softly. “I will make the arrangements.”

Without heed to the fact that Urwin was present, Sophie blurted, “I should not remain at your town home should I be available to pay you...”

“Pay me?” Bern asked, a terrible pain lingering in his guts as he probed at the meaning of her statement.

“Yes...”

“I need nothing from you, Sophie. You are not a burden.”

At these words, her form seemed to sag a bit with relief. “Then I...I would like to stay here.”

“That is acceptable. Urwin will take care of your room and should you need me, you will find me about. I expect that the transition here will take you some time and I will tell you now that for the sake of finding your way around, there will be no room that is forbidden to you and I will make certain that no changes are made without a notice to you.”

She sniffed. “That is very kind of you, Mr. Porter.”

“Should you like a little cane? I hear that I may find a small bamboo rod that might assist you and save your shins from my settees.” He had given the prospect far too much thought, he knew. He had pined over her so long and so hard while he lay in his bed with his hand comfortably over his pulsing and overstimulated shaft after he'd punished it but good. He'd thought about all the things he'd do for her and all the concessions he could make for her. How he could get her to settle in quite nicely into his life and into his bed. Of course...now that she was here, he couldn't have any of it. Not while it was perfectly likely that the girl might poison him or smother him while he slept.

“I...yes. If...that is no trouble.”

“Of course not. Sophie, please. If there is anything you need, you must let me know.”

Her eyes closed and her head bowed toward her lap. “Yes, Mr. Porter...I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the turns have tabled. A shifting power structure does not bode well for Bern's kink. He'll have to perk this little lady up again if he wants her to strap him down and beat the jizz out of him.


	14. Chapter 14

Sophie did not encounter Mr. Porter for a number of days after though she did find herself introduced to Urwin who claimed that he was normally the housekeeper for the London house but in some manner had shifted about to the countryside to stay with Mr. Porter for some time. She was not certain that such a thing was customary but then again, she was discovering that there were quite a few things about Mr. Porter's household that were not entirely considered customary in the least. It smelled almost entirely of Betas with not a single Alpha upon the staff and only a few Omegas who she learned were not maids but were in fact the kitchen staff. The girl she'd been given as her lady's maid was a Beta whose simple country charm was inviting and Sophie did manage to enjoy her chatter in the mornings.

“You know,” the girl mused as she brushed Sophie's hair before the vanity, “I don't think ye quite understand 'ow excitin' it is to 'ave a _Lady_ in the house. I've got te say though, mum, I'm jus' glad te help ye for now.”

“For now?” She frowned. She hadn't been told that anything was particularly temporary but she supposed that the staff was to be told not to become overly attached as of course one day Bern was going to be throwing her out on her ear. It was only natural to have the help not get too emotionally involved. Of course, letting such a thing slip was something Hilda sounded good at—a terrible girl to tell your secrets.

“Oh yeah. 'Aven't ye heard?”

“Heard?”

“Master Porter was goin' off te London to find ye someone special trained.”

Sophie pouted. She'd just gotten used to the way the girl did her hair and now she was going to have to get used to some imbecile who thought they knew everything about the blind trying to help her learn how to manage it as though living with it weren't enough. “Grand,” she stated flatly.

“Is it?” Hilda asked. “You don't sound thrilled, mum.”

“I'm not.”

“Wouldn't it be better? To find somemat might know about about 'elpin' someone like yerself?”

She sighed. “You wouldn't understand, Hilda. Not to sound rude, but I don't need some kind of self-righteous pumpkin from London telling me how it is that I ought to be walking with this cane or how I should count my steps or how I should learn to read those bumpy little books.”

“I've 'eard of those bumpy little books, mum. Expensive, I 'eard.”

A familiar voice sounded from the doorway and Sophie snapped her head towards it, her heart beating hard in her chest. “I've brought a few of those bumpy little books from London. Does this mean you won't humor me and learn to read them?”

Sophie almost couldn't speak. “ _Kerridan?!_ ” She struggled to her feet, her hair tumbled down her back and her skirts nearly tripping her as she stumbled forward and fell into him awkwardly. “ _Kerridan! Gods above!_ ” She hugged him tight, near to weeping for how relieved she was at his fresh scent.

“Well I suppose it's safe to assume that you missed me then.”

“Of _course_ I missed you, you terrible man!” She squeezed him as hard as she could, refusing to stop until she heard him groan in protest. “Porter. Porter found you...how?!”

“He's a remarkable sleuth, you know. How else could he find me if he wasn't? He must have asked around at every agency in the city to find out where I'd gone and when he did find me, I was already hired at an estate in Kent. I was on my way there just outside of London and the madman himself flagged down the stage and offered for me from the door!” He laughed in near disbelief. “I'd never heard of such a thing in my life. Anyhow, he and I searched a bit around for some new books for you and we came across some of those books you were just discussing. They're in French, if it matters, I wouldn't know. They look terribly convoluted to me though we did find a bit of literature on how to get into them if you'd like to know. One of them is MacBeth.”

“MacBeth? Oh you stupid man. I couldn't be excited about anything more than having you back with me!”

He held her, petting the back of her head and resting his cheek upon her hair. “Oh you. And here I thought you a callous little Omega.”

“Did you? There can be no doubt now that there is not a callous bone in my simple little body,” she sniffed. “I cannot believe he found you. I cannot believe that he did such a thing. For me!”

“And I cannot believe that you are here at his estate. I should ask you when is the wedding.”

“There is no wedding, though I did propose.”

Kerridan laughed in disbelief. “No you did not!”

“I did!” She pulled away from him, wiping at her eyes with her hands before she gripped him at his elbows to keep him close for his scent. “I came to beg him and he told me that he would not.”

“How honestly strange,” Kerridan told her, humor still in his voice. “How could the man deny himself?”

She shook her head, her elation dipping a small bit. “He told me...well...he told me that he could not marry a woman who did not love him...”

“Oh dear,” Kerridan replied. “Well...I suppose I cannot blame him for that.” He guided her to sit again. “Her hairbrush, thank you my dear, you may go. What is your name, Hilda? Thank you for taking care of her thus far but I'll resume my duties from here.”

“Alright then, Mr. Kerridan...mum.”

Sophie sniffed again. “Thank you, Hilda. For all you've done. Oh my, Kerridan. What can I tell you? It has been such a quiet week here. Mr. Porter has gotten me this cane made of bamboo. It is light and rather strong and he told me he got it in the little town nearby. There is a man, he says, who runs a small shop there and he is from the Orient.”

“He is from a small island in the Orient, yes. He and I met quickly on our way here and he asked about you. Mr. Porter was very warm when speaking of you...I only assumed that you'd had some time with him...”

“Nay, nearly none. He left nearly as soon as I arrived, in fact the very next day. I have only been here a week now and I've not seen him.”

“Ah. Well then. I could attempt to explain my reasoning but I feel I'm at a loss. He's not only found me but he's found your little wanderer as well and set him up with the gardener here.”

“My little chimney sweep?!” she near-shrieked. “How?! Why?!”

“I can answer the first part of that and it is because I had mentioned the poor boy. He was one of the reasons the man and I went back into London—in order to find him. We did manage to pry him out of the hands of yet another Master Sweep and he's happily filling his stomach as we speak.”

Sophie was overwhelmed, her emotions roiling about along with her scent, raw and unfocused and a muddled mess of confusion. Why would Bern do something like this for a woman who had hurt him—and she _had_ hurt him, she knew. When she had told him that she could never love him, his scent had altered and she'd known then that it had been a blow to him. He had insisted that he could not care for everyone and yet he had just changed the course of the lives of three people—herself included. He didn't have to...certainly not. Why do it? “I don't understand...” she supplied weakly.

“Of course you don't,” Kerridan told her matter-of-factly, brushing her hair with his usual aplomb. “You're an Omega. You don't have to understand.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, barbed and ready for a fight.

“What I mean is that your whole life revolves around instinct and scent. A Beta man has far more going on in his mind than his instincts. Do not worry your pretty head about it. Simply...humor him.”

“Humor him? Are you telling me to...” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “ _Make love to him again?_ ”

Kerridan made a strangled sound in his throat. “Oh God...no. That's not what I'm telling you to do. I'm telling you...gracious, what _am_ I telling you to do?” He chuckled softly. “Perhaps you will let him read to you. Take you on a walk through the woods of the estate. You don't have to kiss him or make love to him or anything of the sort. Just...listen to him. I'm certain that if you would only open your ears to him, you could learn a lot about the man.”

“I thought you didn't like him.”

The man sighed heavily. “Sophie, this isn't about me. Your brother is a scoundrel and a cheat who's left us with no choice but to become dependent upon a man who could have turned cruel and black hearted and yet you are here with me again and he's not said one disparaging word about you to me or anyone else despite that you came to him begging for your very life to become a burden upon him.”

Sophie pouted. “He told me I was _not_ a burden.”

“And therein lies the point! He could have been cruel. He is not. You do not have the luxury to be unkind to him. You cannot tie him up and stuff him in the cellar for the fun of it, do you understand? You cannot toy with this man's emotions.”

She swallowed, her retorts dying in her throat as she saw the hideous truth in his words. She could be only what she was meant to be to Bern Porter—meek. She could only be what was expected of her—small. She could only be _submissive._ She felt as though something had been suddenly torn out of her and the act had left her a mere shell of herself.

“Do not be so jaded, little one,” Kerridan told her, braiding her hair around her head in a thick milkmaid's crown. “One day the man might persuade you.”

“Persuade me? He needed only to say yes a week ago...”

“He does not have to persuade you to marry him,” Kerridan smiled, pinching her cheek playfully. “He must persuade you to _love him._ ”

Kerridan's words haunted her and she walked about the garden in a daze, forgetting sometimes that she was supposed to be waving about her cane and so a few times she ended up tripping and stumbling over benches, her knees and her shins screaming from the abuse. After about the third time she had tripped over the same little bench, she sank down upon it and laid the light cane over her lap, twisting her sweaty hands over its natural ridges.

“ _Love him?_ ” she whispered to herself. She could never be persuaded of it. It was impossible. How could he ever do such a thing? Perhaps he was to use his influence over her...to force her to say things to him that she could not mean, to force her to manipulate her own scent into creating some kind of fantasy. Her mind went wild with the possibilities. She couldn't fathom how in the world a man could make a woman be persuaded to love him when she had so clearly stated that she could _never_. Was such a thing a conscious effort? Had he shared his intent with Kerridan? And why would her own manservant suggest it with such _humor?_ She could scarce breathe for it all seemed so impossible and strange and bizarre! So trapped in her own mind she was that she didn't hear the footsteps approach.

“Are you quite alright, my Lady?”

She startled with a sudden gasp and dropped her cane on the path with a light clack. “Mr. Porter...”

“Bern...if you would.”

“I cannot...” she pulled in a steeling breath. “I find myself in a unique position, Mr. Porter. I've never been at the mercy of someone so completely.”

She heard his subtle exhale as he considered her statement. “Please, my Lady. Do not think of it thusly. Procuring elements of your staff was merely the logical thing to do. Kerridan knows more of your needs than anyone else in England and it would be difficult for you to train someone in your preferences. It was a small thing.”

“You claim such but you cannot claim it for the little one. The child.”

“The sweep...I...”

“You cannot explain it. I know you cannot for it has no simple explanation. You've done it for my happiness and you cannot deny it. What is your game, Beta? What is it that you really want and please tell me plainly.”

“I do not want anything of you, Sophie.”

“Do not lie to me!” She swallowed, recalling Kerridan's warning that she could not risk unkindness. She softened her voice and took a deep breath. “Please. Mr. Porter. Speak truth. You must require something from me. You would not be so kind otherwise.”

His sigh this time was more pronounced. “In time, you will know my motives. If you cannot guess them now, then there is no need for me to tell you. Let us take a moment to appreciate the sunshine and the smells of summer, perhaps. Should you enjoy a stroll with me through the woods upon the estate? I would very much enjoy it if you would accompany me.”

She hesitated before she nodded softly and stood, brushing off her skirts and gently tapping the ground with her cane to gain her bearings. It was a novel little thing and she had taken to it well.

“Grand,” Porter breathed, far less enthused than she would have thought him. “Would you like my touch, Sophie?”

“No.”

“Very well.” His scent was mild and a little weary, his tiredness evident not only in scent but his voice.

“Have you rested, Mr. Porter?”

“I've not been able quite yet. I wished to hold off on sleep until I could properly enjoy the peace of the evening.” He walked with her, carrying on next to her at her pace as she tapped the stone walk to learn the edges of it and keep to it. He made way for her, keeping to the side and changing his movements based upon how she explored. “If you should like to spend some time with me this evening, I would enjoy your company.”

“Are asking for a bedmate, Mr. Porter?”

“No,” he replied quickly, his scent souring. “That is _not_ what I am asking after. I don't...god, I don't want you to think that's all I'm looking for. You're...you're worth more than that, Sophie.” His voice was pained.

“And what if I...if I want to...”

“I don't have the patience today to entertain such a notion,” he stated simply, dismissing her summarily.

She frowned, smacking the end of her stick on the ground. “I will be plain with you, Mr. Porter. I'm...I'm frustrated.”

“Have I finally vexed you?”

“I cannot qualify how this whole situation has made me feel. I have emotions I have never felt before in my blood. I feel mad! I feel like I shall be locked in the asylum for certain for how I have churned within myself. If there is no outlet for this...if there is no relief, I shall simply scream.”

“Is that what you seek, my Lady? Relief?”

“I cannot say.”

“You wish for relief but you do not wish for my touch.”

She bit her bottom lip, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. “I know I am selfish. I know I am unfair.”

Porter took a deep breath in. “The trees smell lovely today. There are little foxes playing in the dapples and some small robins with their little red faces and throats fluttering about in the brush.” His voice was calm and smooth and soothing. It was deep and melancholic as she liked them to be and the timbre of it relaxed her and settled her ruffled nerves. “While I was in London, I missed the sound of the songbirds as they twittered and I lamented that I could not be rambling through my own woods like this.”

Sophie moved forward, still. Her steps were short and light and she didn't reply.

“It makes me less nervous in my daily life, I think. To take a walk in nature now and again. Are you overly warm, my Lady?”

“Do I smell in heat?” she asked with a bit of barb in her tone.

“No, I...well...nevermind.”

“What is it, Mr. Porter?” she asked, trying not to sound overly exasperated.

He hesitated a moment. “It is only that there is a small fresh spring in the middle of these woods. Idyllic for taking an afternoon dip.”

She paused for a second and heard him stop in his steps to look at her. “Mr. Porter, I should have to take off my clothes.”

“I do not seem to recall shyness as one of your more memorable attributes, my Lady.”

“You are horribly rude, Beta.”

“It is only a swim, Sophie. And if you hate me so much, you may occupy yourself with the attempt to drown me.” She heard him turn around and his steps resume, leading her further into the summer-scented forest.

When she caught up to him but remained trailing behind, she muttered her reply. “I could swim...I think.”

“You think?”

“Well I've never tried.”

Bern's scent was intrigued. “Oh. Well. If you shan't be averse to the notion, I believe I should love to teach you, my Lady.”

_Love?_ She almost could have slapped herself for how she'd played right into his hand. Despite all of his nay-saying and hemming and hawing over another round of night play, here he was—the bastard—mentioning something offhandedly which would result in her nearly in the nude! How Betas thought, how their minds worked, would forever elude her. He was so round-about and manipulative, she thought bitterly, upset only that she had fallen straight into some sort of odd trap. _What was he playing at?_

Sophie's lips were tight and she marched behind him until he stopped and she could smell the coppery scent of a natural forest spring. Metallic and tangy, the water was likely full of minerals and cold to the touch. She could hear the slight trickle of the water where it fell in small rivulets down perhaps a rock embankment on the far end and the pool could not have been very large at all but big enough to constitute a swimming hole, surely.

“I suppose you'll want me in my underthings...” she said.

“Unless you wish to get your fine muslin soaking wet,” he replied.

“You will see through my chemise if it is damp...”

“I've had my face between your thighs, my Lady. Not to be lewd, but seeing your breasts isn't going to turn me into a wild beast unmoored by reason.” She could hear a slight humor in his voice. “As attractive as you are, I'm hardly that easy to rile.”

“I know how easy it is to rile you,” she snipped back to him. “Will you please help me with the buttons on my gown then, sir?”

His fingers were quick and before she knew it, her gown was gaping in the back and she shed it rather easily along with her stockings and her little walking boots. When there was nothing more to her save her chemise and the pins in her hair, she held her arms around her chest and marveled that the breeze was warm and lovely against her skin. She heard his clothes rustle and knew he was, if not nude, at least close and a lance of arousal shot through her.

_You may not be easily riled, Mr. Porter, but it seems that I am._

“Are you alright, my Lady?”

“I'm nervous,” she blurted, surprised at her own candor. “I've never done this before.”

“Swimming is quite easy and despite that this is a natural spring, the sun does well to warm it. You'll be a natural, I expect.”

“Not _swimming_ , you idiot. I'm nearly naked!”

Bern let out a loose chuckle. “Oh. This again? Good god, woman, it isn't like you could even see me if I were ogling you.”

“Are you?”

“No I am not.”

She couldn't hear nor smell a lie and she shifted about to try to find the edge of the water with her toe.

“Oh, Sophie, be careful, that's—”

His warning came a little bit too late and Sophie suddenly found the soft soil beneath her feet giving way, her whole body tumbling into the cool spring water. Suddenly in over her head, she kicked out her feet to the bottom, alarmed to find that there was no hard earth, only the softest of cold mud beneath her feet that could not raise her head above the surface and so—as she flailed within it, the mouth of the Earth seemed to close in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the words you're looking for, Sophie, are "Thank you, Bernard, how kind of you to reunite me with my beloved servant." Then slap him.


	15. Chapter 15

She was easily lifted by resting her small bum on his forearm, taking all of her weight, little as it was and eased further by the spring water around them. He held her up as his other hand gripped a rocky outcropping that jutted out toward the water's edge. Holding her head and shoulders above the water, he watched her regain her bearings, her hands slapping the surface before they came to his shoulders and she quickly found purchase around his neck. She wiped at her eyes, ridding them of stray moisture before she opened them sightlessly though somehow comforted by the action if her scent was anything to go by.

“Take a few breaths, Sophie,” he stated mildly. “Did you swallow any?”

“N-No,” she stuttered, holding close to him and leaning in to grip him until her cheek was pressed against his. Her arms were tight and so were her thighs, a veritable vice around his waist as she shivered with her panic and the chill of the spring. Her chemise was floating up around her like ethereal wings and below her waist, she was perfectly nude.

“My Lady, it has come to my attention that you are rather unfond of wearing drawers.”

“D-Do not t-tease me about it.”

“I would never. Are you alright? Should you like to know how to save yourself next time?”

Her voice was harsh with indignant outrage at the first but then mellowed quickly, “I...I...oh...well yes. It would be useful, I think.”

“Alright, well I shall have you disengage your legs and I will hold you up as I turn you around.”

“Very w-well.” She eased the pressure around him and made some small squeaking noises when it wasn't entirely clear that he was going to keep her up with him but when he was able to do so at her back, she calmed quickly.

“Now. I will have you kick with your legs, let me show you. The first one, the one you lead with, will kick out forward like this.” With some difficulty, he managed to manipulate her into a slow movement that she replicated a few times to signify that she got it. “And you will do the opposite with your other leg, like so.” He did the same with her other leg, taking care not to linger too long in admiring the feel of her shapely legs as he did so. It would not do for her to assume that all there was to him was lechery...even if she _had_ met him at a trysting party. “With your arms, you will move them like this.” He moved her one arm in the motion one made to tread water. “You will push the water about like this so that you should keep your head up and you will kick simultaneously. At the first it will seem tiring but as you get used to it, you will find your little shortcuts and it will not seem tiring in the least. It is a fantastic exercise and useful to get the blood pumping.”

She was obviously concentrating and so she was silent and he gradually let her go. As soon as his arms were completely away from her, she made soft grunts with each of her kicks, her chin just barely brushing the surface of the water as she struggled to keep her head up, her movements jerky and uncertain.

“That's it,” he encouraged her. “You're doing wonderfully.”

“You...don't...say...” she managed between breaths. Still, even as she was concentrating, she was smiling.

“Ah, I knew you'd be a natural. Let me know when you're getting tired and I will lift you again.”

“A-Alright.” There was no protest of him touching her and she spoke as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him to come to her and assist her. The concept made his mouth curve and his emotions delight. That she would lean on him, depend upon him within her independence, and not think it unnatural to do so—it was certainly heartening. She swam for a little bit, experimenting and honing the movements until he could see her growing weary. “B-Bern?”

_Bern._

He came to her, his heart filling as he slipped his forearm around her waist and felt her thighs come around his hips, the warm center of her nestled intimately against his lower belly. She twined her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his again, her small breasts against his chest. He wanted to ask her to say his name again. He wanted to hear it from her lips in that breathy, exhausted tone that mimicked the way she spoke when she was panting from arousal. But he didn't. It would break the fragile glass of whatever _this_ was. He couldn't do it.

“Are you tired, Sophie? Do you want to know how to swim forward?”

“After a...a small rest,” she told him, clinging to him for a little while before she mumbled into his ear. “I...I think I have something to say to you, Mr. Porter.”

_Damn, we're back to formality._

“What is that, little one?”

“I...I think I owe you thanks. For Kerridan. For the sweep. For...well...all of this.”

He held her just the smallest bit tighter. “I would do it again in a heartbeat, my Lady.” He confused himself constantly and this was no exception. He couldn't tell her that it was all for love. What would she understand of him then? Omegas and Alphas...they didn't really understand the truest complexities of a Beta's love. He felt like he was drowning in it, wallowing in a mire of it. It held every inch of him in a pit of frothing elation and despair.

“Kerridan told me...that...because I am an Omega, I will not understand you. Why you've done things.”

“That may be true.”

“How do I thank you, then?”

“You just did, Sophie.” He leaned his head so that his cheek was more fully pressed against hers, sharing his warmth in the chilly water.

“No, I...I've done nothing...”

Ah, he thought suddenly. Thankfulness to Sophie must have been something more than words. His heart squeezed at the notion and he turned his lips to her ear, kissing the shell of it in a painful reverie. “Darling, your words are far more than I could ever ask. There is no action of thanks that will please me more than your mere acknowledgment of me.”

She sniffed and he could smell her confusion and an odd bit of detached depression in her scent. “I don't _understand._ ”

“Please don't worry yourself over it.”

“I will do as I please,” she sniffed back. “I had no right to come here and to ask anything of you and yet you've treated me as though I were just as close to you as your own relation. I would have come to you sooner but...but it was a matter of pride, you see...”

He sighed into her hair. “I know...I thought of coming to you but I feared that you would push me away and I...well I'm deeply sorry, Sophie. I feared that in coming to you, I would make you skittish.”

“Then we are both fools.”

“I more than you, surely,” he smiled. God he was in love with her. She was wet and shivering and near naked in his arms and he loved her so much. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to shout at her every brimming emotion in his soul but he couldn't. Not when it would frighten her and force her to think that he was owed some sort of debt from her. She was far too vulnerable. But how could he possibly, in this circumstance, bring her power back? Was she not bolstered by her own home? Was she not held up by the rigid structure of her life with her brother? How could she possibly be the Sophie who burned him with her tongue without everything behind her that gave her confidence?

_I want to be her power._

His arm around her tightened until her small breasts were pressed fully against his chest and he felt her nose come close to his neck to scent him. “Sophie...I...” _I want to lift you. I want you to feel safe with me. I want you to know how much I desperately love you._

“You smell like frost over grass on a cold spring morning,” she murmured against him. “Like the first nip of champagne against your lips, both dry and sweet. Like sun-warmed moss growing over old stone walls...”

He felt tears line his eyes and sting them. “ _Sophie..._ ”

Her hands came to his shoulders and she pushed away only enough to drag her lips over his cheek to find his mouth to kiss him and he let her, submitting to the force of her. The gossamer-like wings of her chemise floated around his shoulders like a mantle of translucent white, caressing him as she continued her sweet assault on him, drawing forward then away in innocent teasing motions that thrilled him to his toes.

_She still hates you, Bern Porter._

He broke from her gently, sighing against the corner of her mouth and running his fingers over the soft satin of her back. “Are you cold, little one? Perhaps a warm blanket and some tea...”

“I'm not cold,” she murmured against his jaw, running her fingers into his hair and gripping him softly, the gentle pull enough to send a new wave of blood between his thighs.

“Would you like to learn how to swim forward then?”

“Yes...”

It took her a mere few minutes to get the basics of swimming down and by the end of it, she was paddling her way around the spring, finding the edges with her hands. When she found that her floating chemise was more a hindrance to her, she shed it and Bern threw it to the side of the pool.

“You...you should not...stare at me, Beta.”

“Of course not, my Lady,” he lied. In fact, he couldn't help but think her utterly delicious. What he could see of her through the water was just as mesmerizing as he remembered from those dark moonlit nights three months prior and he was in awe of her again, her pearly white skin shining in the dapples formed by the water in the sun. “Should you like to play a game with me, my Lady? It is very much like a parlor game but played in the water.”

“Is it one that you will...sabotage?” she asked as she paddled about.

“It would behoove me not to sabotage you this time for if you win, I will have another excuse to have you in my arms,” he teased. “Pardon the name but it is a version of Blind Man's Bluff. You will call out 'blind man's' and I will call out 'bluff' and you must catch me before I swim away.”

“Oh...I see,” she smirked. “I suppose you think yourself to be quite sneaky then and you expect to get away from me?”

“I expect no such thing.”

“Alright then...let's play.”

She moved awkwardly at first, calling out for him and reaching forward when he replied, playfully experimenting with her swimming until she had found a rhythm she quite liked. He had her giggling like a true Omega in no time and eventually, when she was laughing too hard to keep her head above the water for long, he allowed her to catch him, her arms coming around his shoulders and her legs clamping around his hips once more. She was laughing fitfully, resting fully against him and pressing her nose against the tender flesh of his throat.

“I've got you,” she giggled, pressing her body fully against him as if staking a claim. “You are a dastardly Beta, to get me to chase you! You must feel terribly clever.”

He chuckled with her, holding her tight. “Don't you know by now that I _am_ terribly clever? Emphasis upon the 'terrible' part, of course.”

She laughed even harder, practically cackling. “You are the worst.”

“If I'm the worst, why in the world are you snuggling with me?”

“I will not answer that ridiculous question,” she replied, still letting out small amounts of infectious giggles that made him chuckle even more. “Mmm...take me home, Mr. Porter.”

“As you wish, my Lady.”

She was far too alluring, trying to cover herself with hands that were far too small and the way her body moved as she struggled into her clothes was enough to send him into fits. Why did she have to be so damned pretty? He thought sourly. Why did she have to tease him like this and tickle at all of his fantasies? He was certainly going to be remembering this later tonight when he had a moment alone to slide his hand into his drawers, that was for certain. When she was put-together as best as she could have been, though still damp and giggling, he took his chance, sliding his fingers down the length of her arm from her elbow to her fingertips, lingering to see if she might hold his hand.

She didn't, pulling away at the last as her smile waned. “How presumptuous of you, Mr. Porter,” she told him simply.

“I apologize.” Still, he felt a coldness in his heart at her rejection and then handed her the small bamboo cane. He walked with her back to the house, the pair taking in the sunshine while Sophie spoke of her childhood adventures in the garden back at Broadspear Manor. Still damp despite the sun, they came into the front hall and found Kerridan as he was on his way back from some chore.

“Oh dear, Lady Sophie,” the man smiled, casting a hard glance to Bern, “you seem to have become wet somehow.”

“Oh yes,” she grinned. “Bernard has my chemise, it's absolutely _sopping_. The dear man has taught me to _swim_ , can you believe?” She giggled. “I hadn't ever tried before and now I've found it to be quite nice. Isn't that lovely, Kerridan?”

Kerridan swallowed, offering his hand to Bern for the soaking chemise and inspecting its translucent quality before he cast another bewildered and alarmed stare at Bern for his sheer audacity. Bern, of course, provided him with an unruffled air and a bland little smile. Kerridan cleared his throat. “Well...I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, my Lady. I will...take care of your clothes and the mess you've made of your hair before supper. Perhaps you will allow me to escort you to your room.”

“Oh yes, that would be wonderful. Please.” She put out her hand and Kerridan tucked it under his arm. Turning her head toward Bern she grinned savagely. “I'll see you later for supper, Mr. Porter. It was a lovely walk.”

“Likewise,” he replied, giving her a small bow though she couldn't see it. With one last sharp look from Kerridan aside, he thought the afternoon had gone extremely well. _Extremely well until the end._ Perhaps it was possible, he thought with a hint of optimism, for her to become comfortable with him. Of course...if what he hoped he could do could come to pass...it wouldn't matter anyway. She wouldn't be staying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Kerridan isn't sure what to do with Bernard yet...punch him or conspire with him...


	16. Chapter 16

Bernard Porter stayed within reach of her for the whole of a week, each day taking time to find her and walk with her. Some mornings the man even came to her and offered to read to her, picking up _MacBeth_ and reading for hours at a time with honestly the most perfect voice she had ever encountered. The fact that his Beta tones, mild and soothing, were so perfectly formed was somewhat infuriating as she could not think of a single thing that she hated about any of their interactions. That was...except that sometimes when he would tease her a little bit she had to bite her own tongue and not tell him to go soak his head—but that was less to do with him and far more to do with herself. Kerridan's warning that she should be polite to him as not to risk his ire was wearing on her, whittling her away into nothing.

Still, she could not understand Bern in the slightest. There were things he wanted—that was something she was certain of—but he was elusive and insisted always that it was only her acknowledgment that held any value to him. Was it really so simple? To merely tell him “thank you” each time he did something sweet? She hadn't ever considered that Bern Porter even _had_ a side of him that was sweet but by now, a week later, she could not even begin to doubt of it.

It was not only what he did for her but what she witnessed with her own senses. With a careful finesse that was not lost to her, he had made very sure that there was plenty of room for Kerridan among his staff and would not hear of anyone even getting in the man's way, considering his work for Sophie absolutely paramount.

He had also installed the little chimney sweep with his own gardener, an interaction regarding the boy something that Sophie had accidentally stumbled upon as she wandered the grounds, the sound of voices reaching her as she trailed her fingers lightly over the boards of the ice house.

“Master Porter,” came the deep respectful tone from around the corner of the building, just feet from where Sophie stood.

“Mr. Dremel, how are you and this young man coming along?”

The small voice of the pup sounded and melted Sophie's heart. “We're doing wonderfully, Master Porter. We've dug up all o' them nasty weeds in th' south gardens. Have ye seen 'em?”

“I believe I saw a whole wheelbarrow full of the little blighters, and what a terrific job you've done. I hope you've stayed out from under foot, Maxwell.”

_Maxwell? Is that his name? Good gracious, I saved the boy myself and hadn't even though to ask!_ She frowned at herself. _Trust Mr. Porter to get a leg up on me there! Damned thoughtful Beta._

Mr. Dremel's voice was filled with a grand pride. “He's been a blessing, Mr. Porter, and the Missus...well...she's been overjoyed to 'ave 'im. It's a far better life for 'im than livin' in servant's quarters, I say.”

“And I agree,” Porter said softly, “I'm grateful you've taken him on.”

“Of course, Master Porter, and I hope ya liked the corn bread the Missus baked yah.”

“It was nothing short of divine. I believe my little missive telling her so should have met her this morning. Make certain to tell her thanks from me again and I shan't forget the stipend for his care either.” His voice became softer. “Now Maxwell, you must do me a great favor.”

“Anythin' fer the Master o' the house!” the pup squeaked.

“You must take great care of Mrs. Dremel. She's waited a long time for a pup like you.”

“A pup like me? Well o'course she 'as! There's only one o' me!”

It was enough to tie Sophie's head up in knots. She didn't know what to think of the man anymore and was slowly coming to realize that despite the unfortunate circumstances of their meeting, she couldn't help but come to appreciate him. It was annoying, this new warmth she found inside herself for him, and confusing to boot. She didn't _want_ to feel as though she were sitting with a friend when he came and chatted with her and read to her. She didn't know what she wanted, but it certainly wasn't that. Maybe she wanted to foster this comfortable disgruntlement forever.

She meant to try, naturally, but again upon his entry into the parlor where she sat to do her needlework—still terribly, she was sure—she found herself calming with his familiar scent. “Do sit down, Mr. Porter. I've not seen you for most of the morning.”

“I do apologize for being absent at breakfast. Mr. Horne had urgent news and I had to meet him down in the village.”

“Oh yes, the village,” she mused. She had not yet been to Everwood though the small community was very close by to Porter's estate. “Is there any reason that you do not allow Mr. Horne to come to your door? Is he rather odious?”

Porter's scent soured only the slightest bit and Sophie's lips thinned as she held back a devious smile. Gossip was rare around this manor house and she was keen to bear witness to any dramatics that could be had. He took in a deep breath. “My cousin is not the sort of man I should wish upon anyone, my dear.”

“Is he so terrible?”

“You tell me. He's the reason I was in your house, mucking up your life. He's a detective, Sophie. He does what he does and that's all he knows. He cannot separate himself and so he would inspect you down your littlest toe seeking anything incriminating should he have one inkling as to bad intent.”

She continued her needlework. “Do you think it possible that he would assume I've bad intent?”

“I'm sure I don't know. If it helps, I don't believe you to hold malice for me despite what you say. I should have been dead already if that were the case. Smothered by my own pillow or doomed to some mysterious accident.”

“You don't think yourself able to fight me off?”

“Well...” he began, his tone and his scent shifting oddly. “Considering the predicaments I've gotten myself into with you, I don't believe fighting you off would be the first thing that comes to mind...”

Her cheeks heated. “Oh. I...I suppose not. Though I should tell you now that I've no designs to murder you.” She chuckled. “Though that is what any self-respecting murderer should say.”

His scent warmed though a tinge of nervousness remained. “I shouldn't tease you about something so grim. Really, I came here to ask if you might have any interest in going out tonight. With me.”

“We are far off in the country, Mr. Porter, what event could you suggest?”

“It is a...well it is a country dance. I normally do not attend but I thought that you might be interested. There likely won't be any waltzes so I cannot assure you that you'll dance but it might be nice for you to find more than just me and the maids to chat with for a night. Perhaps there will even be some of the village girls who will be moved to correspond.”

She closed her eyes and raised her brows with a sigh. “Mr. Porter, I do not require some little country maiden's pitying correspondences.”

“Well that is a surly way of putting it. Perhaps they would actually wish to be friends with you. Do you really think that everything that happens to you is because...well...”

“Because people pity me? Of course it is.”

“I see. Well then you don't have to attend. Perhaps a quiet evening as all the rest of them.”

“I...” she started, unsure of how to state what she truly wished. Really, what she wanted was to feel closeness again. A dance would clog her nose with far too many Alphas and Omegas. Porter's wisping, mild scent would be lost and trampled by sweaty dancers and really what she wanted was...

_Romance?_

She frowned at her own errant thought.

Porter sniffed. “Sophie?” He must have scented her frustration with herself. “If there's something I can do—”

“There is.”

He gave a pause.

“I do wish to dance. But I've never been taught. And I...I want to waltz.”

The Beta was quiet for some time, his scent muddling through a myriad of thoughtful emotions before it settled and he took in a soft breath through his nose. “You want me to teach you to dance.”

“You taught me to swim and...I...I liked that.” Her cheeks were practically on fire as she recalled the way she had wrapped her legs around his hips like a wanton. She had felt like a beautiful nymph clinging to her lover and his scent had been so fresh and dewy that she couldn't help but even now find some pleasure in its depth. “You're a fine tutor, Mr. Porter. I daresay you might be able to teach me plenty of things...” Oh she was wicked, she thought shamelessly. To remind him of the previous week's indiscretions...it was almost as though she were inviting him for more.

_Maybe I am._

Bern cleared his throat diplomatically. “Well...um...I suppose we would require a little music if you're intent on learning to dance. I believe I've a footman or two who are proficient enough to provide us with enough to get by. But that would take some time to prepare.”

“I'm alright with waiting.”

His scent was difficult to read, mingling with contrasting emotions. “Well, to be frank, Sophie, I have some business I must attend to in town and it may take me a little while to complete. I thought that it would be best to introduce you about town so that you might not become lonely should I be gone.”

Bern was going to leave her? After just one week of having him all to herself she had become spoiled by his voice and his scent and the whole of his presence. She was nearly disgusted at herself for having felt even a modicum of sadness at the thought of not having him about so that he might read to her or keep her company. Annoyed by her own thoughts, she sank down into herself, forgetting that of course the man could scent her peevish fragrance.

“I suppose you think me terribly patronizing for having thought it up. I apologize, my Lady. I simply thought that you might like to have someone to speak to who was not Kerridan.”

_That is why I have you..._

“It is...alright...Mr. Porter. Are you... _certain_ that you must go to London? You cannot simply convey your wishes through the post?”

He chuckled. “Unfortunately, unlike your brother, I have my hands fully dipped into my nefarious plots.”

“I see. You do tend to sneak into places and appear where you're least wanted,” she told him dryly.

“Ah. I see your humor is still in working order. You cannot be overly unhappy with me. Do I detect that her Ladyship does not wish me to leave? Have you not had enough of me already?” He teased her gently with his tone. “If you are too gentle with me, my Lady, I should begin to fear that I've fallen out of your favor.”

“When did I give the impression that you had entered into it?” she snipped back playfully.

His laugh was low and attractive, inciting small flutters in her stomach that both annoyed her and exhilarated her. It was really too bad that such feelings had to be created by _Bernard Porter_ of all men. Still, there was nothing for it.

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Perhaps you and I could do something that doesn't require much planning. My horse, Mylene, is a very docile and sturdy mare. She would surely be amenable to the two of us riding.”

Sophie perked up. “Riding? I've...I've never ridden.”

“I thought as much. Your brother truly did keep you hidden away, didn't he.”

“Don't begin to sound too pitying for me, Mr. Porter, else I might think one day I may actually convince you to marry me.”

He didn't respond to that more than just a thoughtful and good-natured hum and invited her again to ride with him which she accepted readily. She did wish to be outside again and to be close enough to him to have his scent all her own without any other distractions. He led her outside the stables and had Mylene saddled. He brought her out and she smelled of horse and hay and with a soft grip on Sophie's wrist, he put her hand upon the creature's snout.

“Oh gracious,” she laughed. “She is so soft...I hadn't known...” She petted the large horse a little, giggling a bit at the way Mylene sighed and nudged against her hand. “I remember what horses look like but...sometimes I think I've very much forgotten how large they are.”

“Indeed, she is a big horse. Very calm though and very sensible. She does not spook easily and I have even had her rushed by a pack of dogs before and she gave nary even a whiff of fear. Kicked one right in the mouth but I swear to you, she was as cold as you were when you bashed my head in with that bottle.”

Sophie burst out into giggles at the memory of how well she had gotten one over on Bernard Porter. “It served you quite right and I'm certain it served these dogs as well.”

He laughed with her. “Do you think me a dog, my Lady?”

“The worst of them!” she laughed back.

“Terrible,” he tsked through his laughter. Now come here, I'll put you on this saddle if you'll help me.”

Through some trial and error, Bern was able to get her onto the saddle, bodily lifting her after making certain that no one was watching for the level of his indiscretion. It took a fair amount of struggle and ended with his hand upon her rump to help seat her. Ruffled and intensely amused, Sophie felt him saddle up behind her, the length of his body fully pressed against her.

“Forgive me, Mr. Porter, but I was always under the impression that a lady was to ride with her legs together and to one side.”

“Unfortunately,” he replied, rather winded, “I fear that position is far less secure if you don't know what you're doing. Tell me you're wearing drawers, my lady.”

“I am not,” she grinned, the saddle's warm leather comfortable against her nethers while the wind cooled her exposed ankles as her gown's hem was rucked up to her calves. She had no formal riding habit so an older one of her traveling gowns had sufficed.

“Woman, you will drive me to drink,” he muttered into her ear, his breath puffing against her cheek and driving a hot pool of blood straight down to where the saddle touched her. “If merely sitting with me can excite you, my Lady, simply wait until we begin to move...” With his warning out, his thighs seemed to communicate to Mylene for her to move and she began walking, the movement awkward at first, jostling Sophie's body back and forth until she could move herself to counter it, tucked up against Bern.

“Oh...I suppose I could see how something like this might begin to chafe...” she told him and nearly jumped from her skin when she felt his hand come to her thigh over the fabric of her gown. “Mr. Porter...”

“You're moving against me too much, my Lady.”

“I don't think that's quite my fault.”

“Perhaps not. I had Urwin pack us a picnic in the saddlebags and I'll take us down to—”

“To where we swam?” she asked hopefully.

“If that is where you would like to go,” he offered. “We can certainly find some peace and quiet there. Though, admittedly, perhaps I should not bring you back to Kerridan in such a state this afternoon. Especially not when I will be gone for the next week or so.”

She felt her mood darken at the mention of his business. “Take me with you. To London.”

“I will not be about for pleasure, my Lady. Another time I will bring you. When we can stroll about in ballrooms and take rides in the park.”

“That will never happen if you insist on being so sinister all the time, creeping about London on some kind of dubious business.” She pouted peevishly and then eased backwards to press her rump more fully against his groin, at the very least satisfied to scent his overt arousal and feel it upon her backside. “Please tell we're close and that Urwin has packed a blanket for me to sit on.”

“We are close,” he ground out, his hand sliding from her thigh to her belly, pressing her back more fully as the movement of the horse ground him against her. His lips came to her ear, his breath harder. “ _You are driving me insane, my Lady._ ”

“I don't think that my fault,” she told him haughtily, even as the soft leather of the saddle pressed against the center of her and she felt tingles of pleasure sent in waves with every jostle of the horse. His hand was pressing against her belly and his scent was all around her. Arousal had tightened the muscles of her thighs and beaded the tips of her breasts. “You were halfway to insane when I met you.”

She could feel his lips just under her ear and the press of them along with his heavy breathing sent goosebumps coursing over her skin, the spot between her legs throbbing with want for him. She wanted him inside her again. She wanted to press him down into the grass and hold his wrists at his shoulders and take what she wanted from him. She wanted him to know that it was not he who made the rules when it came to their coupling.

“ _Mr. Porter..._ ” she murmured, near to breathless, leaning back into him, fighting the urge to bare her throat to him as he nibbled along her jawline. “ _Mmm...Bern..._ ” The hand on her belly shifted to cup at her breast through her gown and she mewled softly, barely able to notice that the horse had slowed to a stop. With her back to him she was practically at his mercy and this would not do, she thought simply, this would not do at all. “ _Bern...are we here? Are we alone?_ ”

“ _Yes. And yes,_ ” he murmured back to her, still breathing heavy against her soft cheek, his hips rocking slowly forward and back against her.

“ _The...the blanket, Bern..._ ”

The softest of whimpers sounded from his throat but he obeyed her, sliding from the saddle and helping her to stand upon her wobbling legs in the soft grass before he moved to the saddlebags and laid out the thick wool blanket that Sophie quickly found and sat upon for she was not certain how long her knees could hold her. As the man moved to hitch the horse, Sophie's trembling fingers worked at the buttons at the front of her gown.

“My Lady?” Bern asked as he approached.

“Do not tell me you've lost your spark, Beta.” She paused, suddenly on the verge of becoming mortified for her assumption that she might make love again this afternoon. “I do wish you might lay down so that I might...” She felt her cheeks gain some color. “So that I might take my pleasure with you...”

She could hear him breathing, taking stock of everything. “Sophie I...I'm not sure that...”

“Don't think, Bern. Please don't think. Tell me that you'll lay down for me and give in to whatever it is you Betas have. Instinct on some level, I'm certain. I know my nudity does little to excite you but—”

“You're mistaken, Sophie. Right now any of your body to me would be the finest of pleasures.”

“Then you will make love to me? Here and now?”

He came to her then, dropping down to the blanket and cupping her cheek in his hand to guide her so that he could kiss her deeply. He groaned into her mouth, his hands moving between her breasts to help her in unfastening the row of tiny buttons. When his kisses ended, he kept his forehead pressed to hers as he breathed. “Sophie...you will surely drive me mad. Yes, I will make love to you...”

“Wait...” she told him, her hand coming to his to stay him. “There is one condition...”

“Yes,” he blurted, “Anything...”

“I...I would like you on your back, Beta...and I want your hands above your head.”

His laughed was a deep though mild rumble and she could scent a sudden sharp spike of spice in his arousal. “ _Yes, fiery little Sophie. Yes. Yes. Anything for you._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm losing my damned mind. Did I _never post this?_ Or did I _accidentally delete this?_ Either way, here's Chapter 16. [again?]
> 
> New chapter coming soon...likely Sunday _if I remember???_


	17. Chapter 17

This time, he didn't let her keep anything on. Not a stitch could he have disguising her small form. He had consented to laying down with his hands above his head but he could not bring himself to do so until she was rendered completely nude. At an irritated little sniff she gave when he had not yet done so, he laughed and then lay back upon the wool, staring up at her while he clasped his hands to his wrists and watched her light fingers explore him, every touch of her skin against his sending sparks through his senses.

“You are unimaginably beautiful, Sophie. You cannot know how stunning you are.”

Her cheeks were a fine pink in the dapples of sunlight. “You tease me...”

“I do not. Do you know what you look like to me, Sophie? A vision of Venus birthed. Honey hair, petal lips, eyes like cornflowers...”

“Stop it...”

“I cannot. Your body is like the finest of poetry. Your skin is pale moonlight and snowdrops. Your scent is the sweetest of nectar and opium to my mind.”

“Bernard...” she sighed, her fingers splayed over his chest as she straddled his midsection, the softness of her fine blonde curls between her thighs driving him wild with just the barest hint of dewy moisture. “You are making this very difficult...”

“Sophie, you have made my life difficult from the very first moment I laid eyes upon you.”

“This is not my fault,” she quipped, smiling shyly.

“No,” he agreed softly, “it is mine and mine alone. I teased you, I tempted you, and I've given myself to you.”

Sophie moved her hand to his throat. “Do not make me silence you, Beta.”

“Silence me, Sophie. Please...”

She placed pressure down over his windpipe until he made a soft sound signaling his loss of breath and he watched her smile deviously as she inched back to nestle his rigid shaft against her bottom. “You indulge me far too much, Bernard.”

He wanted to tell her that he had certainly not indulged her even close to enough but instead lifted his hips, pressing against her until she reached behind her with her free hand and touched him gently to position him, the two of them working to open her.

“ _Bern..._ ” she sighed again as he filled her, the warm, wet sheath around him squeezing enough that his groan burned in his throat, trapped by the weight of her hand. Her body welcomed him, tight and yet giving, grasping for him with a hunger she must have recognized. Once an Omega had found the dulcet pleasure of sexual power, it was difficult for them to forget it—and Bern was clearly the easiest for Sophie to conquer...she knew she could have him. She knew she could control him with nothing but a word...a whisper even. But it had to be her—it _must_ be her. She could be the only one to initiate their coupling and certainly she could be the only one would wielded the true dominance...else it was for naught.

Bern's sight began to falter and he gurgled a bit beneath her until her hand let up a bit and oxygen rushed back into his bloodstream, lighting up his brain with a sudden influx of awareness and sensation. “Oh god,” he gasped, coughing a bit. “ _Sophie..._ ”

“Mmm,” she moaned, answering his rocks with her own movements that made erotic wet slaps down over him. “You always jerk harder when I let you go...”

“You've bewitched me,” he replied, his voice husky and raw. “Oh it is so difficult to keep my hands off of you. The way your body moves over me, if you could see yourself you would agree...you are a powerful vixen.”

“You think me powerful?” she asked, her breaths beginning to quicken and puff between her words.

“I know you are. For what other woman could so clearly destroy all my good sense?”

“You've never had good sense.”

“Never since I met you.”

She was grinning. “I will have to concede that I did not know you before...uhn, Bern...please, that there. Whatever you have done in that moment, do it again.”

He paused for a second and then replicated his angle. “Hold your hips at a cant, darling. That's right. Stay right there.”

“ _Oh!_ ” she cried out, her mouth dropping open and her eyes closing as she focused deeply upon his thrusts which must have caught her at the most delicious of positions. “ _Oh that is very nice..._ ” she breathed.

“Very nice,” he parroted, “yes for the discerning woman. Take care that when you set your hands upon me again that you do not do so to balance your weight. Like many who perform the bulk of a task, I perspire.”

Her smile was wide despite the pleasure she so keenly felt. “You tease me again and this time for being— _oh—_ a woman who gets more than she gives.”

“Is there any other kind of woman?” he teased again.

“Do you wish for me to slap you, Bernard?” she asked him, her tone low and sultry. “Is that what you wish? You need only ask...”

“Where's the fun in that?”

She leaned over him, still gasping softly at every thrust of his hips that pleased her so and she trailed her fingers over his throat and his chin and then his cheek, taunting him with a soft touch before she hit him with her open palm hard enough to jerk his head to the side and halt his movements for the moment. “Was that...was that enough for you, Bernard?” she asked, businesslike.

“It will not be enough until I bleed from your touch.”

“That can be arranged,” she replied, her body tensing around him until he thrust up inside her again. “Are you...are you to be naughty again?”

“And if I am?”

_Slap_. The sting set his blood alight with such a pain that blended clearly into pleasure that he was struck speechless. He continued to buck under her, panting with his exertion until she was practically writhing over him, her quick lesson in how to hold her hips becoming the key to bringing her closer to a trembling peak.

“ _Bern-nard! Bernard! Bern! Ahn!_ ”

“Hold on, little Sophie,” he groaned, sticky notes of Omega pleasure washing down over him in her beautiful, heavy lusted scent. “Hold on to me.”

Her hands groped over him and one found purchase in his hair, her fist gripping hard and causing him to hiss from the pain, the sensation nearly crippling him with his lurid desire to feel far more of her punishment. Her voice was gasping and half a whisper. “ _Do not go...do...do not go...Bern. Please. Don't...don't go to London._ ”

“Uhhhn...” he let out in a groan while he stilled his hips beneath her, his loins screaming at him to continue—to find his release. “I promise you...” he panted beneath her, gripping his own wrists in his hands harder to keep from petting at her thighs. “I promise you that when I return you will have me again. If you should like, I will let you chain me down. I will let you whip me. I will let you bite me, scar me, cut me with a blade. Any of that...but I must go to London.”

Her scent twisted into a bitter and shattering tone and she slapped him again, harder than before. Enough to cut his lip again and he tasted blood. Another slap and his cheek beneath his eye took the brunt of it, feeling raw and stung. Another. And one more.

He breathed hard beneath her, his nose quite possibly dribbling with blood from one of her misplaced and careless blows. “Do you hate me again, Sophie?”

“I've always hated you,” she said around tears.

“I'm not leaving you. It is only a week.”

Still, her lower lip trembled.

“Sophie...” he chided. “Kiss me and I will tell you that I am sorry.”

She hesitated at the first but, to Bern's intense delight, she relented, leaning over him and pressing her lips gently over his, accepting the exploration of his tongue and delving into him as his shallow thrusts began again inside her to work her back up into her previous frenzy.

“ _Mhn...Sophie...I'm sorry. I'm sorry...I have to go but I will miss you every moment..._ ”

“ _Ahn..._ ” She was, for the most part, beyond words and her arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him while she rode him, her cheek against his cheek and her body tight with tension. Her scent was uniquely sweet and pleasured and though it took some time, eventually Bern felt her whole form tremble and shudder over him, twitching in a deeply-rooted orgasm that was much different he knew than the one from before. “ _Uhnnn..._ ” she sighed, sagging over him as he gave a few more thrusts and felt his own rise and peak, his eyes shut tight as he spilled his seed within her.

He panted beneath her weight, having worked quite avidly to keep himself from spending too soon. The muscles in his thighs twitched and he felt his abdomen tense with the aftershocks of his climax. Dapples of sun came over his closed eyes and for a few moments, he lay there, content and sated with Sophie above him and the warmth of the summer breeze rustling the leaves of the trees.

“Bernard?” she asked, her voice small.

“...yes, Sophie?”

“When you do get back from London...you aren't speaking in jest when you tell me that I will have you again?”

He smiled, letting out an amused little chuckle. “I'm not teasing you, Sophie. You mean...that is to say...”

“Have you...like this...”

“Intimately.”

“Y-Yes,” she stammered. “Would that be alright?”

“You seem quite intent to be assured. Is something the matter?” he asked softly.

“Well it is only that...the week after next...”

Bern sat up, jostling her from her comfortable position and catching her in his arms to keep her from tumbling off of him. “Sophie...I cannot possibly...”

“But you said...”

He wiped at his nose, finding blood on the back of his hand. “I know what I said but that was when I was under the impression that it would be a simple affair. You mean to tell me that you'll be having your heat that week. Sophie, if I am not your mate, I do not belong in your bed.”

“You've already been in my bed,” she snipped, her voice taking on a harder edge.

“That's not the point. An Omega who wishes can dabble about all she wants when she's not fertile but the moment you've come down with a fever is the moment you should have only your mate with you. If you found out after that you'd made the mistake of bedding me and you were to have my pups...” He shook his head. “You _hate me_ , Sophie.”

“I...” she started, trailing off before she frowned to herself. “I...”

“I cannot fathom any argument that should bring me to your bed during your most vulnerable state.”

She tsked. “I am not a vulnerable maiden in heat, sir. I am quite capable. Perhaps you shall find yourself brained by another bottle of claret and taken advantage of.”

He chuckled again, taking stock of how much his shock had altered their state, his arms around her and her breasts tucked up against his chest. “Hmm...I do like this. Perhaps in heat you are more receptive to touch...”

She softened a bit. “I...I could not say...”

He thought for a moment and then pressed his lips to hers, exalting when she responded to him again, allowing him to taste her until the tension in her muscles was gone and she was lax in his arms. Against her lips, he whispered. “I like you pliant but I cannot imagine you as weak. Should you not brain me with the claret, I might fear for what else you were to do to me. Surely you cannot deny that to take me during your heat would be an unwise decision.”

“Only if you were to put a pup within me and then deny him,” she replied, gently retaking his lips as though this were some sort of sensual battlefield and she could not lose ground.

He kissed her for a minute and then made his response. “You seek to lure me into matrimony with a pup then.”

“Will it not work?”

“It would should I have been an Alpha.”

“You could not simply leave me to suffer...could you?”

“That is an unfair question. You know how weak I am for you. Perhaps I should postpone my trip to London...”

She gasped, pressing away from him and struggling against his tight grip as he worked to keep her close. “You brute!”

“Will you hit me again?”

“Perhaps I shall! Tell me why you will not marry me!”

“Again?”

“Yes!”

“Because you hate me, little one. I cannot marry a woman who does not love me.” His heart ached at Sophie's words which echoed in the chambers of his heart. _I could never love you._

She stilled in his arms, her pout prominent. “I... Well...what if I told you that I...I have learned that I cannot hate you?”

“Do not patronize me,” he sighed, turning over and allowing Sophie to sit alone upon the wool blanket while he cleaned himself up and then touched her gently to tend to her as well, ignoring how ravishing she looked with pink cheeks and matching nipples, her thighs open and his seed dribbling from her opened body. “I will believe a change of heart when I have seen the evidence of it. You cannot lie to me now.” She could. She could and she was and despite everything he thought he knew about himself, he was vulnerable to having his hopes inflated by her careless words.

“Bernard...” she implored, “you could not deny me...could you?”

“I already have.” He trailed his thumb softly over her cheek and said no more about it as he helped her to dress and tried to fix the pins in her hair. She ate the picnic luncheon that had been packed for them and when it was time for them to go, she tugged his sleeve as he packed up Mylene's saddlebags. He turned to her. “Yes, my Lady?”

“Call me Sophie again...just once more...”

“Sophie,” he murmured, allowing her to bring him close and kiss him. “What are you doing?”

“Clearly I am being selfish,” she explained against his lips. “You should be familiar with the notion as you are a connoisseur of the practice.”

“Your bite is that of an asp.”

“Do not do anything dangerous in London, sir. I will be forced to come find you and beat your miserable body until you cannot do else but sip broth.”

He smiled. “It is difficult to keep from ravishing you when you say things like that.”

Sophie smirked. “Perhaps I want you to ravish me again.”

Bern stifled the moan in his throat and gritted his teeth hard to keep himself from taking her up on the veiled offer. If he let her have her way with him more than this, she really would keep him from going to London and unfortunately, it was a necessary evil. If everything went according to plan, he wouldn't have to worry about Sophie's heat—she could be gone before then. God, he hoped it wouldn't come early...that he would have time for everything to fall into place and to save them both from a ill-fated marriage. Because Bern had no doubt that eventually she would wear him down. That eventually she would convince him to marry her—and that she would no doubt come to resent him for having agreed.

He cleared his throat. “Ravishing will have to wait. I've some things to work through this afternoon and Kerridan will be in a tizzy over the state of you, ruffled as you are. We have to leave him enough time to fix you before supper.”

“Supper is only you and I. You do not mind me smelling of you and of...”

“You are a scoundrel,” he told her, taking her and lifting her to help her into the saddle. “Do you like Kerridan at all? He would likely die should you come to supper like you are...” He mounted behind her, keeping a hand on her hip to steady her and bring her rump comfortably against his groin. “You don't wish him ill, do you?”

“No...the only man I ever wish ill is you.”

“I sense a lie,” he told her, leaning down to nibble over her ear which caused her to take in a sharp and amused breath through her nose.

“Fine. You and my brother.”

He laughed and kissed the shell of her ear, taking delight in how it pinkened with her blush. “I am not certain that I would have it any other way, my Lady.”

“Sophie.”

“Gracious, you _will_ drive Kerridan to an early grave.” With humor in his smile, he led the horse back to the manor, taking care to walk her slowly to spend a small bit more time with the raucous little Omega who would be more likely to drive _him_ to an early grave.

She was difficult to read, impossible to know, and hideously damaged. It took only a gentle examination of the state of his face and a reflection of her passionate reactions to him to deduce that she would be a hard woman to handle and one hell of a wife. For one, he hoped he was doing the right thing in going to London. He couldn't know, really, if everything would work out the way he thought they might but with Wagner's help, it was possible. It was truly possible that he could fix what he'd done to Sophie's world and to her life. He could bring back what had provided her comfort and the smallest bit of stability. It was worth it, he thought, to know that she was safe and happy again.

For what he'd done to her...it seemed his only redemption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't forget this time! Which is good since they finally got to do the do again.


	18. Chapter 18

He felt as though he hadn't slept for days, having finally come to the moment where he could put to rest all of his own misgivings about the matter standing outside the cheap wooden door of a private room in one of London's seedier gambling halls. He adjusted the flat cap on his head and took a simple breath in and a simple breath out before he schooled his voice to have the perfect Beta inflection that could allow him to become someone practically invisible.

A soft two knocks on the door with the backs of his knuckles and he tried the handle, swinging it ajar before he stated quickly, “Mr. Hemsby? A word?”

Emmett Nolan was sitting on the edge of the dingy bed, his head not even turning up at the false name he'd been using to slip about the Capital's underbelly. He had something in his hands and Bern was almost certain it was a revolver. He spoke quickly.

“Mr. Hemsby, I'm not here about a debt. In fact, I'm here about another matter entirely.” He waited but Nolan did not reply to him. His Alpha scent was odd and prickled in Bern's nose, causing his eyes to faintly water. There was a danger here and it was one that Bern was most certainly not all that used to, having spent most of his time with Wagner as his thinker, sitting in libraries and coming up with the plots rather than having actually executed them. Now, with a thick envelope under his coat, he was here to settle things—the right way and the only way he knew was possible. In his quiet voice, he drew the Alpha's attention with two syllables. “Nolan...”

The man stiffened considerably, his head snapping about over his shoulder to pin him with a wild stare. “Who are y—” He paused, standing up and turning about suddenly, the revolver still in his hand as he faced Bern from the other side of the bed. “You're that Beta. You're...Porter...” He was dirty, frazzled, and disheveled in all the worst of ways. If Bern hadn't slept in days, this man had clearly not slept in weeks. “What do you want...are you here to have me arrested? You're the spy, aren't you? You're the one who's responsible for this...isn't that right?”

Bern regarded him warily, his eyes flicking down to the gun. “Yes. Yes I was.” He was not surprised when the barrel was suddenly facing him so he put out his hands in a staying motion. “But I am also the one who is responsible for resolving it...at least the part having to do with you. My cousin brought me evidence I told him to look for and I knew I had to be right about you...” He trained his eyes on Nolan's face rather than the muzzle with great control over himself. “Let me explain, my Lord.”

“Explain what? How you've ruined me? I suppose you're here to stop me from killing myself. Why bother?” he asked, his voice raspy and choked by unshed tears. He swallowed hard, taking a look at the gun. “You've done this. You've brought me to this.”

“I'm not fixing this for _you_ ,” Bern told him, barely hiding the hint of annoyance in his voice and his scent. “If you must know, I'm doing it for your sister so if you do love her, please refrain from killing me or yourself at this moment so I can tell you what I've done. An effort wasted should you commit either suicide or murder, believe me.”

Nolan slowly lowered the gun, his eyes shifting down Bern's form until they rested in a glaze on the floor at his feet. “Who am I kidding? You didn't cause this...not really.”

“No. I didn't. You did. For all your bungling up, I did manage to find out what the devil was going on.” Bern produced the envelope from the inside of his coat and slapped it down upon the worn counterpane. “You really were the patsy, weren't you? Blackmailed. You were fleeced out of your fortune and then, when you had no more, you were forced to fleece your friends by this mysterious M character who held above your head your entire future. What you failed to realize in your rampant stupidity is that you were on borrowed time no matter what you did. Eventually you would run out of friends or run out of time and your creditor, M, was of no mind to let you off the hook that easily.”

Nolan tossed the gun next to the envelope, the fight having left him. “You're telling me things I already know.”

“But he had more above your head than your money. Your other creditors couldn't push you to such extremes but M had a master plan for you. Something you would never have adopted had he not blackmailed you.”

Nolan sighed. “If you don't know what it is—”

“Your affair.”

“Well, I suppose that gets me out of having to tell you all about it.”

“And your son.”

“That part as well.” He wiped at his eyes with his hand. “Might you have a cigarette?”

Bern ignored him. “Whatever you've done, I don't care. Take the envelope.”

Nolan leaned over and picked it up, tilting it until the parchment came into his hands. He examined them piece by piece, his brows knitting forcefully together. “This is...this is impossible.”

“Not impossible. My cousin and I have done some chatting into the right ears, it seems. You'll be held accountable but they will be lenient with you...it is likely that you could spend very little time in prison. This means nothing to me, but—”

“Broadspear Manor...”

Bern shifted, uncomfortable all of a sudden. “The estate could be quite profitable should it be allowed to grow. I've made some plans for it and—”

“You bought it. You own it...it's yours...and these are my debts...”

Bern swallowed, taking off his flat cap and holding it tight in his hands as he stared at the Baron whose scent was shifting between disbelief and some other strange emotion that was beyond him. “Yes. I am your sole creditor...I've bought them all. I should tell you now that this was not at all a paltry sum. I've drawn myself rather thin to do it and...” this time he was not interrupted. His voice simply failed him.

“Why?” Nolan's voice warbled. “Why have you done such a thing?”

“I told you why I've done it,” he replied, his hands kneading his hat.

“Sophie...but...you didn't like her...”

Bern couldn't help his little smile. “My Lord, your sister has been residing at my estate for some time now.”

“Oh my god,” Nolan muttered, wiping his face again. “And you've done this for her? Why? She can't be happy with me. I imagine she'd be overjoyed to know I'll be in irons...”

“I have it on some authority that you may simply be released under my responsibility...it is unconventional but there is less scandal...”

“And have a Beta be my keeper?” he asked, his lip curling with disdain for the idea.

“Do you think yourself capable of capitulating?” Bern gathered the parchment together again into the envelope after Nolan handed it over. “Your life and Lady Sophie's life will return to a somewhat normal state and the management of your estate will revert to my own hired man. Should you find yourself bored, you are welcome to bring your hand into the processes I've devised for Broadspear...I've determined that it would be quite profitable for distillation.”

“You intend to...”

“Make whiskey, sir. It will be quite the boon, I imagine, and any of the money from the industry will be paying off the considerable sum I spent in buying the damned house.”

“You shouldn't have done this.”

“But I have and it's done. The true crime that's been committed here was committed by your blackmailer as all of your friends have been reimbursed as a part of my having bought your debts. You owe nothing to anyone.”

“You're wrong,” he replied, grabbing his jacket from a nearby chair and throwing it on. “I owe the most difficult of things to the most difficult of people.”

Bern frowned. “What can you mean?”

Nolan sighed, the purple rings under his eyes more pronounced now in the yellow light of the nearby lamp, his expression that of a broken man. “Firstly, I owe an explanation to my sister...and to you, sir Beta, I owe you thanks...not to mention I do owe you quite a bit of money.”

“I consider it your estate that owes me. If I can turn a profit for it within five years, which I can, then it won't bother me to have purchased it. Obviously it will take work and you'll have to be patient with me, Broadspear, you won't be spending any time in gambling halls or hosting wild orgies.”

With a bit of a humored smirk, Broadspear nodded demurely, “I thought you liked the party.”

“The first thing I'm going to utterly destroy upon my return to the manor is that damned folly,” Bern replied dryly as he led the man down the narrow wooden stairs to the back exit of the gambling hall, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air that greeted him outside. He put on his hat and lifted his eyes to Wagner who waited for them by the coach, a cigar between his fingers.

“Oh by the Gods, old boy,” Broadspear pleaded him, “you wouldn't have another of those would you?”

Wagner frowned but produced one anyway, clipping the end and even lighting it for the Baron with a match. “I'm impressed you were drawn out. I was half sure you weren't here. Are you ready to speak to the magistrate?”

Nolan passed a glance over to Bern then back to Wagner. “What he said is true, then?”

“Bernard is a very wealthy man,” the detective pointed out. “He does not make investments he does not believe in. Do not disappoint him, Broadspear. Do you know the identity of this man who was blackmailing you?”

“Is my freedom contingent upon it?”

Bern interrupted. “No. It is not. You may face a sentence either way. But it would help you, no doubt, to be able to point to the mastermind behind these schemes. I know the magistrate is very interested in the information that you might have regarding who this man is...do you know?”

“I know little. I know him as you know him. As M.”

“Whatever you know, let's get you into the magistrate's office before you spill all of it,” Wagner provided, opening the door to the coach and ushering them both inside. “I'm ready to have all this business taken care of once and for all. You're a lucky man, Broadspear, if Porter hadn't insisted that I nose about further into your business affairs—and _personal_ affairs—you'd likely have been stripped of your title and sent straight to Edinburgh should they have found you.”

“Yes,” Broadspear lamented, his voice sardonic, “I suppose I'll be reminded everyday of how much of myself I owe to this Beta.”

Wagner's scent was peevish. “Best you are, in my opinion.”

Nolan sighed and continued to smoke with Wagner, the two of them filling the coach with a fragrant haze. “I suppose it hasn't been easy to find me. The look of you might lend me to that conclusion. Into a few scrapes, Porter?”

His face heated a tad as he raised up his fingers to gently dab at the healing cut on his lip and the purplish bruising of the soft flesh beneath his eye. “Admittedly, Broadspear, these are from a far more familiar source.”

The Alpha rolled his eyes. “Oh my god...please tell me you didn't send her to an asylum for it. She doesn't mean to do it, you see. It's not been easy for her...please, Porter, if you haven't already—”

“She doesn't require an asylum,” he replied easily, putting the man's mind to rest. “Don't worry yourself over what she's done to me, Baron, it's nothing.”

“Doesn't look like nothing,” he grumbled in his seat, sitting back. “The woman's got you looking like you've come out of a brawl.”

He smiled. “You won't have to think about it anymore after you and she have returned to Broadspear.”

“She's hit you and you've still done this for her...she doesn't sound grateful.”

“She doesn't know.”

He coughed in shock. “She _doesn't know?_ ”

“No.”

“Gods, man. You've kept it a secret? Why?” His eyes lit up with a sudden understanding and his jaw dropped open. “No...no that cannot be it...you are... _deeply_ mired, sir. You _love her._ ” He choked on his laugh and looked between Bern and Wagner disbelievingly. “You know I shouldn't allow this match but you clearly have me at a severe disadvantage, being the man who owns my debts and all...I should ask you when the wedding shall be.”

“As much as I've done this for love,” Bern started, feeling his emotions pinch, “your sister does not reciprocate the feeling. There will be no wedding...I cannot marry a woman who would come to resent me. If she knew what I'd done...she would think me heavy-handed. She would think that I had done it all to force her. She cannot know.”

“She cannot know? Are you daft?” Nolan laughed, turning to Wagner and motioning to Bern. “Is he daft?”

Wagner nodded sagely. “A damned fool, he is.”

“I will not hear any more of it,” Bern told them both sharply, huddling back against the bench in the coach and crossing his arms over his chest, his scent hard. He wasn't in the mood to be pestered about it. After all, Sophie and her insufferable brother would be packed off and gone as soon as possible and the only time he would have to see either of them was when he was making his personal visits to Broadspear which would hopefully be a merciful few after the first few times. He would have to oversee the installation of the distillery and, of course, the destruction of the folly. After that, his estate manager could handle the rest of it and Sophie could go on living her life almost as though Bern had never even existed within it. It was better for the both of them.

_Bollocks._

It was better for _her_ , he thought. It was going to drive him absolutely insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bern Porter is his own ultimate cockblock. What a rube.


	19. Chapter 19

The only thing that Sophie Nolan could bring herself to be grateful for in this moment was the fact that she was not covered in sweat anymore. The ache lingered, pulsing in her nethers as she was not completely over with the harsh heat she'd just experienced for the last five days. The sun was warm and gentle over her face and the scent of her had lost its heaviness that marked her as fertile. That she had been in her own room—her room at Broadspear—had simply served to bother her more as she had not the subtle and intricate Beta scent of her lover to cling to. He had abandoned her.

By some ill-fated miracle, she had been reunited with the scoundrel that was her brother and she had been told, on the cusp of her heat, that she would be traveling back to Broadspear as though this whole chapter of her life had been nothing but some misadventure. As though she were supposed to forget everything that had happened to her in Bern's arms and in his home—as though she could easily forget the grounds and the gardens and the hallways that she knew as if she were to stay there indefinitely. She had put time and effort into such a task and right before she had fallen into her deep and restless heat she had been placed upon the marble steps of her old and now nearly unfamiliar home.

It was missing some of the furniture. Things had been shuffled about. Emmett had tried to put things back where he thought they ought to go and the staff had been filtering back into employ but it wasn't the same and it certainly didn't make her happy.

She had known it would happen. He didn't like her, after all. He didn't want her in his house, a specter that haunted him of what he'd done to her. He didn't want to feel guilty. He didn't want to get close to her or dance with her or marry her. Sophie Nolan wasn't exactly what one would consider to be a prime catch anyhow, she thought savagely as she lounged outside upon a chaise. Despite his kind words to her while she had sat above him and he made love to her—he had dumped her off without so much as a word to her and now she was finally in her right mind and still she couldn't puzzle it out.

Emmett was back. His scent was filled with an abnormal grief but he was back nevertheless and she found herself wandering the halls of the manor trying to piece together how in the world she had ended up here again. Emmett would tell her nothing—and it was not that she hadn't asked. She had asked many times where he had been, what had he done, and how had this all fallen together again? She didn't trust him. His fumbling responses and noncommittal answers did nothing to assuage her. It was maddening.

She curled her bare toes against the grass as she hung one foot from the side of the chaise.

Kerridan mused beside her where he sat upon a blanket. “Mmm, do you remember the color green, my Lady?”

She sighed. She seemed to do that a lot lately. “Yes, I think. It is the color of the trees and the grass. I think I can imagine it. Perhaps I mix it up but what is the difference?”

“It is so brilliant today,” he said, his voice lazy as though he were laying down. “It is such a warm green in the grass...the sun is upon it and touches it like a tender lover.”

She didn't want to be reminded of tender lovers.

“You're so sour, my Lady. You should be happy. It is almost as though you never left.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” she snapped. “Everything is different. Everything is terrible. How do I stand upon my own two feet as though I stand upon rock when I have reason to believe that it is sand?”

Kerridan gave his own sigh. “You are difficult to appease. We have told you again and again that you've nothing to fear.”

“And yet that tells me absolutely nothing.”

“I cannot know what to tell you. Your brother has made his mistakes, that is true, but he's here again and he's going to make it all up to you. He's promised you that he'll have a tutor here to teach you how to read those books I picked up in London and we'll not have any more of those wild parties you had to sneak around. Not to mention, you'll have anything you could ever need. Should you wish to go to London, we may do so with or without him, should you wish to volunteer for a charity you may do so at your discretion. Whatever you might wish for you may have...what is there else to think of?”

“Whether or not my life is to crumble down around my ears again! I should like to know!” She felt as though her voice was pitched far too high. She felt as though she must have sounded mad for having her thoughts so fully spread out for anyone to hear. She felt frazzled and befuddled. “Am I mad, Kerridan? Am I mad for wanting to know how exactly I have come back to this point in my life?”

“Are you not glad to be?”

“How can I be when I am so anxious over losing everything all over again? How could he do this to me?” She nearly shrieked it again, “ _How could he do this to me!?_ ”

Kerridan gave a small pause. “I should aim to ask, my Lady...do you speak of your brother? Or of Mr. Porter?”

Her heart felt as though it had been crushed in her chest and she felt it ease up toward her throat. She didn't want to think about Bern Porter. How he had touched her and held her close, his warmth in the cold spring pool. She didn't want to think about how nice he had felt beneath her, between her thighs and rutting up into her with a steadfast set of thrusts. Finding her memories of him still hopelessly entangled with emotions, she tried to suppress them but couldn't, the scent of her altering with a musty sort of fragrance that wrinkled her own nose.

“I...” she tried.

“You are a silly, silly girl.”

“I am a _Lady_ ,” she sniffed.

“Then you are a silly one,” he scolded. “If you were in love with him, why didn't you tell him?”

She gasped though it was only within a second or do that she suddenly realized that she, Sophia Nolan, really _was_ in love with Bern Porter. It was unthinkable. “I'm _not..._ ”

“I can smell this lie. It is one you cannot hide from me, my Lady.”

She fell quiet, her shoulders slumping. Porter thought her at the worst to hate him and at the best to be indifferent toward him. In truth she could be neither for she had slowly come to need him—through appreciation for him mostly and then through _him_ for himself. He was insufferable. He was terrible. He was grating and awful and yet...he was kind. As much as he thought himself unable to care for everyone, he seemed to do a decent job of caring about those who mattered the most...and at least pretending to care about her.

_How could he do this to me?_

Her voice was small. “Kerridan?”

“Hmm?”

“How could he do this to me? How could he let me go?”

“Oh dear. That one is a difficult question to answer as I am not Mr. Porter and he must certainly have his reasons.”

She sat up in the chaise, her toes curling so hard around the grass that she was ripping it up. “But you are a Beta man. You must know something that I do not.”

“I swear to you my Lady, there is nothing I have not already told you.”

“There must be.”

Kerridan was silent for a moment, as if studying her. “Omega,” he stated softly, the term floating out of his mouth like sweetened water, “you cannot know the chambers of a Beta man's heart. You cannot know his motives the way you can know an Alpha's. His feelings are raw and vulnerable. His soul is not one bolstered by bravado. He is not as confident and boisterous as a man like your brother. It would take convincing for him to believe that you could love him without manipulation.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He wants you to love him for who he is. Seeing that to be an impossibility, he let you go...perhaps to forget him and to help him forget you. He won't, though he will try.”

She felt her lips turn down with her sorrow that clutched at her heart. “I...I cannot. And I will not try. Do you...do you think he loves me? Kerridan do you?”

He laughed, the sound playing over her ears as though notes from a chime. “Oh my Lady...I was certain you _knew_.”

“Knew?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “Yes! My lord how simple a man and a woman in love can be. How gracelessly stupid! Yes, he loves you!” He was still laughing. “You two are quite possibly the most terrible of lovers to have come so far without having seen it in one another. How star-crossed you must be! What crimes must you have committed in your past lives to have been cursed so by the fates?”

“Do not laugh at me,” she snapped at him, her cheeks gaining a hard warmth as her chest still constricted. “You cannot be serious. I have done more to hurt him than to love him and you still think that he loves me? I have torn him down, I have brought him to his knees...I have...”

“Omega,” he chuckled warmly, “he _enjoys_ what you do to him. He loves the pain you inflict. It brings him out of his misery and lets him _feel._ Strong emotions no matter good or bad have a way of attracting a man, don't you know? How much convincing do you need from me, my Lady? He loves you. He's loved you since the moment you forced him to kiss you in the parlor. Maybe even before then.”

“God,” she sighed, her arms and legs feeling impossibly heavy. “It seems that I am more than blind.”

Kerridan let loose a trailing set of laughter. “Omega, I would say that blind is just what you are...merely in two ways. If you wish to remedy this matter, you've no reason to wait overly. Mr. Porter will be visiting with the estate manager this morning. He'd brought an architect from London to design his distillery...the man certainly does like his liquors.”

“He'll be here?!” she asked, breathless. She sat up quickly, her feet now flat on the grass. “I have to see him, Kerridan. I have to speak with him. I have to tell him that...”

“That you love him? And do you think he'll believe you? If you madly run to him and tell him that you love him in the middle of the morning when he hasn't seen you for weeks? Do you not think that he will attribute this somehow to your heat?”

“Do not speak to me of my heat. You are a crude Beta,” she scolded. “Men know nothing of heats. I will tell him whatever I like.” Sophie gathered her skirts and got up from the chaise. She picked up her little bamboo cane and wandered in the direction of the house until she heard distant voices. Pausing, she determined that she did not recognize the most talkative of the few and switched direction to intercept them, her bare feet in the warm grass and her light muslin skirt tickling over her toes as she walked.

When she was close enough to them for them to notice her, she heard the telltale mild tone of her Beta. “Excuse me, gentlemen...”

“Mr. Porter?” she asked lightly, her heart fluttering at the thought that perhaps he might ignore her completely. She needn't have worried.

His scent grew stronger as he closed the distance between them and his voice was soft when he spoke to her. “Lady Sophie. I trust you are well?”

She wanted to slap him. She resisted the impulse and instead felt tears flood into her eyes.

“Ah. You are very upset with me. I understand.”

“You don't understand anything at all, Beta,” she sniffed. “If you understood anything about how I felt...” She wiped at her eyes, feeling more tears slip to her cheeks. “No...I apologize...you cannot hope to understand me and I cannot hope to understand you...I must be frank with you, Beta. There is...something about you.”

He was quiet.

“I...I find myself to have...well...that is...you and I...when...” She gave off a strange sob. “Oh no this is terribly difficult.”

“Please, my Lady. You have no need to be so nervous about me.”

“I have every reason to be so nervous about you. You mean more to me than...than you could know. Kerridan has called us star-crossed and I suppose that must be so. Mr. Porter, I do not simply think it anymore, I very much know it. I've fallen in love with you. It has been quite beyond me to unravel how it's happened and—”

“Sophie,” he stated sharply. “Who's told you then? Your brother?”

“Told me?” She reached out for him, finding the patterned brocade of his waistcoat with her fingertips before he took her cool hand in his warm one. “What do you mean?”

“Who has told you? Who has made you think that this was necessary? To tell me this?”

“Kerridan told me that...that you loved me...and that...”

“And?”

“And that I was a foolish Omega. To keep it from you that I love you as well...but...” she felt her heart shrivel. “He told me that you might not believe me...”

He was quiet for a moment and his scent was puzzled. “What else has Kerridan told you?”

“Nothing. Only this. Please, Bernard... You cannot tell me that you do not believe me. Can you not scent the truth in my words?”

“Sophie...”

She tilted her head easily, a feat she did not usually possess the willpower to complete. “Tell me, Bernard. Tell me that you smell a lie and I will admit to it. I cannot hide a lie so well that you could not scent it with your nose to my throat.”

He hesitated. “Sophie...” he murmured. “There are guests. They cannot hear us but they can see us. This is improper. You're a Lady.”

“You care about what strangers think of you but you cannot care for how I feel about you? If you will not scent me then please tell me that you believe me. If you cannot then...then...know that I would rather have stayed at your lovely home forever with you even should we never have married...I...I miss you Bernard. You know that I have missed you and you have abandoned me anyhow. Do you not love me, Beta? Am I wrong to think you could?”

“Sophie...” he breathed, his warm hand moving to softly cup the back of her head, to control her while he closed distance between them and sank his nose to her. His lips just barely brushed the sensitive skin on the side of her neck and his nose tickled under her jaw.

“ _Bern..._ ”

“ _I see...I know now. You do not lie to me..._ ” His breath puffed against her flesh and she shivered as gooseflesh washed over her body and her nipples tightened under her bodice. “ _But why? How?_ ”

“I know not how...” She felt tears seep onto her cheeks as she closed her eyes. “But it has happened and I cannot make it go away. I will not. It feels so good to love you, Beta. Though I shall not forgive you...”

“ _Never forgive me, Sophie..._ ” he murmured against her jaw, gently placing a small kiss below her ear that sent blood rushing between her thighs. The smallest amount of slick dribbled from between her thighs, soaking into her drawers to remind her that she was not _quite_ finished with her heat.

“ _Bern...I want you..._ ”

“I have guests, Sophie.”

“ _Damn your guests. Tell them your betrothed needs you._ ”

“How presumptuous my betrothed is.”

“That is why you love me, is it not?”

There was a low and quiet rumbling chuckle in his chest. “I suppose it must be. You must give me an hour Sophie. It is all I ask. Can you wait?”

“I have been waiting far too long for you, Beta. If you make me wait another hour, I shall cane you.”

The spice in his arousal was hard and tingled in her nose. “ _Oh do not tease me, Omega._ ”

“I do not tease,” she replied. “I _promise._ ”

“Then I will not be disappointed. One hour, Sophie. I shall meet you in your chamber. Be sure not to forget your cane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. God. I had no intention of letting this get to be like this but wow. I am drawn again into the mire.
> 
> Remember all, I have a Twitter account that you can follow: @actualadultJD I chat about OV, writing, and my Gramma. Feel free to come check it out. I'd love to interact and chat and follow back.


	20. Chapter 20

She was to test him certainly, he thought as he turned back toward his guests—that was, his estate manager, Mr. Levenworth, and Lord Delevan, who had seemed keen to know what he might be able to do to assist in Porter's investment into Broadspear Manor. It had seemed odd at the first that the man would have any kind of interest in what a Beta was doing with an old estate like Broadspear but when Bern had asked him of his interest, he had provided an answer that was far too compelling—he was interested in _investments._ Bern supposed that to consider a brand new business was certainly an investment though he needed not any capital to fulfill his desires.

He wanted to make whiskey. Good whiskey. He wanted to make this damned place profitable and this was how he was going to do it. Delevan simply seemed to be the nosy sort and Bern supposed that he would have to entertain him if he was going to remain on the better side of the Lords.

Delevan, of course, had no reason to pretend not to be looking when he had scented Sophie in the lawn and, utilizing his social rank, it was easy for him to give his opinion. “Mr. Porter, how shocking. Wasn't that Lady Sophia?”

“It was,” he replied flatly, avoiding eye contact and walking again with the two men toward the site he had slated for construction of the building necessary for his distillery.

“Do not leave me in suspense, my dear Beta.”

“I wonder what it is you might wish for me to say about it,” he replied tersely. He was in no mood to be bullied about by Alphas on this day and so he ignored the issue entirely and made up for the lost conversation by spreading about his arms and rushing into a long bit of planning he explained in detail to Levenworth who was busily tapping the end of his pen upon his forehead between notes he was taking on his pads of parchment. The amount of money he was going to spend on the project was not minimal but there was enough—there was certainly enough. He'd been making quite the revenue from his own estate by way of wines and other agricultural pursuits—whiskey would not be a far stretch for him at all and Broadspear was the perfect place to do it. When he was finished explaining his plans, he turned to Delevan. “Anything to say, Alpha?”

“Only that I fair think this will cost far more than you think it will.”

“I've done the calculations and spoken to the men who will build it for me. If they stand by their quotes they've given then it'll be easy to pull up the cash.”

“And if they don't?”

“Then I put it off for a year. No matter. Listen, Delevan, I know you're looking for something to put your money into and you know a Beta's bet is a sure thing. Wait until I've got the thing running and then we'll chat about having your money tied up in it.”

“And if you never give me the chance?”

“You'll get your chance, Alpha.” He frowned at the man's impertinence. “Do not pressure me. You know how slippery a Beta can get when any weight is on his shoulders.”

“Is that how you've won the Lady Sophia?” His tone was taunting. “A little pressure on your shoulders?” His eyes flicked past Bern's shoulder and the Beta turned his head to see where Nolan had emerged from the French doors onto the terrace.

With a glare back toward Delevan, he growled. “Broadspear's got nothing to do with it. Lady Sophie has her own agency and knows well enough how to use it.”

“Ah, so it is the Lady who fell for you?” He chuckled. “After how you embarrassed her in the parlor at Broadspear's party, I should have known that there was something between you. There is but a hair's breadth between hate and love, after all.” Despite his devil-may-care demeanor, Bern could see the gears in the man's head grinding and turning over all of this. “Is she why you saved the Baron's life? What am I saying? Of course it is.”

“Who told you I saved him?”

“It's been making the rounds that you've bought the place and that Broadspear is back and living like a hermit—or a prisoner. Since it was you who purchased the place then it is only logical that it must have been you who'd imprisoned him.” He shrugged one shoulder.

“I hardly imprisoned him. He's free to leave.”

“And go where? The whole of the ton knows of his indiscretions and if he were to run into the wrong people, he'd be gutted and left in the streets. That little bastard of his might still as yet end up upon this doorstep. What might you do then?”

“What should I do? It's not my child.” Bern grumbled even as he said it—he would likely be the man who would have to insist upon the Baron taking charge of the welfare of the child and, if that was not a possible avenue, he would have to...do it himself.

“You could not be so cold, could you, Porter? A romantic Beta such as yourself?”

“What do you know of romance?”

“That only a man with enough of it could have captured the attention of Lady Sophia. I should ask how in the world you tamed that shrew but I know it is the romance in your heart.”

“You know nothing of my heart.”

He smiled. “I suppose I must not. She is beautiful.”

“She is more than beauty.”

“Ah. _Romance_.” He laughed, tickled by his own words. “Anyway, tell me Porter, how much money have you wasted upon your romance of her? How much money did you spend upon the estate and all of the Baron's debts? Are you indebted now yourself? Perhaps I should offer you a loan.”

“Piss off, Alpha,” he snapped, Levenworth blinking hard as he whipped up his head to stare at Bern and the impudent Lord. “If all you're going to do here is tease me and attempt to make your money off of me then you can go home and wait for me to beg you for aide. Since you seem convinced that I have made fault in my bets here, then how can you be of any mind to invest in my future ones?”

“Can you deny that you have done this all for love?”

“I won't deny it,” he replied, jutting up his chin in defiance though giving a hard swallow at his own admission. “I won't deny it at all. I'm going to marry her. So stick that right in your cap, Alpha. She's _my_ Omega.”

Delevan smiled at him and yet there was a hidden glint of something in his eyes and a spine in his scent. “Bold of you, Beta. To claim such.”

“Bold of _you_ to question it,” he spat back, turning around quickly and stomping his way back across the yard until he was upon the terrace and Broadspear was staring at him with his characteristically lazy expression.

“Here, here, what's got you upset, Beta?”

“Tell your friend not to pester me about your debts if he comes to speak with you.” He gave pause for a moment and then glowered at him darkly, “And should your bastard ever arrive upon this doorstep, I expect you to provide for him!”

He straightened at Bern's tone, looking less affronted and more chastised. His words were softer than Bern expected and took him quite off guard. “Yes, Mr. Porter.”

Unnerved by the deference, Bern sniffed through his nose and shook his head a little bit, stalking off into the manor in order to make his way to Sophie's room, gently knocking upon her door with the back of his knuckles as he stood close. “Sophie darling?” He hoped she had not changed her mind. His heart felt as though it were pounding in his chest and he couldn't help but feel like a giddy boy again, ready to know what true paradise lay between a woman's thighs. Was she going to make him kneel before her? Was she going to tie him to the bed? Was she going to make him stand? Any apprehension he should have felt was replaced by a near-euphoria of knowing that this glorious Omega was going to make him hers—in all ways.

_My god, Bernard, she's going to marry you. And she...she loves you. How could that have happened? You're a depressive fool—how could a woman and Omega like Sophia Nolan ever find you worth a single farthing?_

He swallowed hard and took a step back when she opened the door, her hair out of its pins and laying over one of her lithe shoulders in a long honey blonde braid threaded with blood red ribbon. She was in her dressing gown and, from the sight of her collarbones, it seems not much else.

“Sophie,” he started before she put out a finger to pause him.

“You said an hour and yet you come to me within half that time.”

He took her wrist and lowered her hand. “I couldn't cope with the idea of you like this.”

She was smiling a devious little smile when she caught him and pulled him into her room. His pulse skipped at the sight of her restraints attached to the bedposts. She had removed the counterpane and the cover sheet of the bed and piled them in the corner, leaving an open little area for them to play. “Listen to me, Beta,” she told him softly as she closed the door behind him, “Should I hurt you further than you wish to be hurt, you must tell me. But you must tell me in a fashion that I cannot ignore. I shall not cease should you say to me to stop. You must say it and truly mean it.”

“Alright,” he agreed as he helped her in her quest to unfasten his waistcoat and then his shirt, stripping it from him and discarding it carelessly to ground. “What shall I say to you then?”

“Something perhaps that is unique,” she replied, quickly going to work upon his trousers.

“Then I will call you Sophia...for I never use your proper name. I will tell you along with it to cease.”

“That is acceptable,” she told him just as she rendered him nude. “Now I wish for you to sit upon the floor so that your back is against the end of my bed. On your knees, please.”

He obliged, his scent sparkling with his arousal. He watched her come around him, lengthening the restraints attached to the lower bedposts a small bit as she measured with her hands. She attached his wrists to each bedpost and then re-tightened the leather straps until he was splayed and restrained, on his knees and waiting for her to punish him. After all—he did deserve this. He licked his lips, his voice weak. “What are you going to do to me, Sophie?”

Her response was measured. “I'm going to play with you. Like a cat with a mouse.” She left his vision for a moment but when she was back, she had her riding crop in her hands and she came to her own knees in front of him, measuring the space between them with her hands. Every touch of her fingers upon him set his blood afire and made him ache for her. Finally, she cautiously touched the tops of his thighs with the leather tip of the crop and then tested the distance between them, learning just where he was so that she might hit him most effectively.

“You certainly are toying with me, aren't you, Omega?”

_Thwap._

He gritted his teeth with the sudden sting on the top of his thigh and felt blood rush to his groin, further hardening his already-rigid shaft. “Do you know much about your brother's friends?” he asked, keeping his mind from the pain.

 _Thwap._ This time on the other thigh.

His breath was tight. “Delevan was here. Chatting about my romance of you.”

“What romance?” she asked flatly. “You're a fool.”

 _Thwap._ It was hard and it hurt. He didn't think he'd ever been harder for a woman.

“Mmm...” he tried, nearly losing his train of thought as he winced. “I've done things for romance that even now I am reluctant to tell you about. When you've got me on my knees for you and completely at your mercy—when you've destroyed me with your insistence that you...” he paused for a moment, staring at her beauty in the sunlight that streamed in from the window, glinting in her hair. “That you love me.”

“I do love you. You do not doubt me, do you? I will have to beat you twice as hard if you doubt me.” She hit him again, harder.

_Thwap!_

He hissed in his breath and then gave a small cry. “Ah! Gods! Mmm, I can already feel myself shaking. You've done this to me, Sophie. Should you not have been blind, perhaps you would feel more the conqueror for you could see my trembling.” He took a steeling breath through his nose. “Do you know of Delevan?”

“I do not.” She trailed the tip of her crop over the tender places she'd already hit him and then between his thighs to nudge at his full and proud erection.

“Hhhnn...Sophia please do not hit me there.”

She grinned mischievously. “I would never. I like that part of you too much.”

“And the rest of me?”

“Convenience, I suppose,” she teased. She hit him again upon his thighs, each cross over his previous welts exponentially more painful. “How do you feel Bernard? Like you may ravish me?”

“I could ravish you at any moment,” he admitted. “But now I am enjoying your power. Please, Sophie. Hit me. _I deserve this._ ”

“You do,” she replied, hitting him again and again, each time of it now producing involuntary spasms in his legs as he cried out, his scent spiced with his sweat and his pain.

_Thwap!_

“ _Oh Gods, Sophie...please hit me. Please. I deserve this._ ”

To his chagrin, she tossed aside the crop and one of her hands came to his shoulder, the other to his jaw and then to his hair as she guided his mouth to hers. She straddled him, the slide of her soft flesh over the tops of his thighs stinging even as he reveled in it. The center of her, dewy and fragrant with the musk of her lust, came to him and even as she kissed him, penetrating his mouth with her tongue, she reached between them to guide him inside her.

“ _Mmmgh_ ,” he groaned into her mouth. His mind was buzzing with the mixture of pain and pleasure as she writhed over him, undulating her body to ride him, however awkward it seemed. He moved to help her, leaning back against the bed and angling himself to drive further up into her grasping, wet heat. The sweet scent of her was all around him and it was only too obvious here and now that she was not quite finished with the more fertile of her days. “ _Sophie,_ ” he mumbled against her lips. “ _Sophie...I want...I want you..._ ”

She kissed him hard though beneath it was a sentimental sweetness he recognized. How he wished suddenly to be unrestrained so that he might hold her—so that he might love her the way she was meant to be loved—with passion and comfort and every inch of his tenderness. Despite his proclamation, she moved her hands to his shoulders and used him to lift herself, however shakily back to her feet, his cock wet and shining with her slick. Composing herself, she found the crop with her toes and kicked it aside. Her voice was tremulous when she began to unfasten the restraints, “Get up and turn around. I want you to face the bed.”

With his hands free again, he rubbed his wrists a bit, recovering from the pressure while he got up, still trembling with arousal and adrenaline. He allowed her to place his hands in the restraints again and held his thighs tight together, up on his knees. When he was in place, he watched her take her slight bamboo cane from the side of the bed.

“Sophie, may I make a request?”

“What is that?” she asked, her hard demeanor melting a bit.

“No hits to my back, please. I've no qualms with needing a pillow to sit upon but if you were to strike me overly hard upon my back, I should perhaps take issue.” His buttocks were tight and squeezed together as he sucked his bottom lip with a nervous energy.

“A-Alright...I've...I've never done anything...”

“Quite like this? My darling, I am just as much a novice. But Gods does it ever arouse me to be powerless to you. Only you could awaken such a deviance inside me.”

She was quiet for a moment, her scent rippling through emotions underneath her lust. “Bernard?”

“Yes, my love.”

“You will...dance with me soon? I do wish to dance...with you.”

“You think of this now?” He gave a dry laugh. “Of course, my darling. Of course.” He leaned his head down and placed his forehead upon the cool sheet, testing the strength of the restraints that held his arms out to the side. “I will do whatever it is you wish. I will worship you, marry you, give you everything you could ever want. I will do anything for you, Sophie. I've done all of this for you...every ounce of it. The house...your brother...”

She gave a little “tsk” that gave him pause. “You should never have done something so stupid. You are a foolish Beta, Bernard.”

He laughed again. “I know. I know, gods I know. But there is no man in love who is not a fool.”

“Then you deserve this. For your love.”

“ _Yes..._ ”

Her touch was light as she gently found the meat of his buttocks. When she had gauged her blow, the cane swished through the air like a knife and found him. However ready he thought he was, he was proven so very, _very_ wrong. It was _far_ more painful than the blow of the crop and he gave out a small yelp of surprise, his breaths directly after from a mouth open with his shock.

“You sound as though you were not expecting such a pain...” Sophie told him, her boldness back in her voice.

“ _Mmmrrrgh,_ ” he emitted, his groan in part a reflection of his efforts to regain his composure. “By the devil...that _hurts._ ”

Her hand came out to him, her fingers gingerly exploring the mark on his flesh that was already rising into a nasty welt. When she pulled her hand away, she gave out an endearing little giggle before she swished the cane through the air again.

_Smack!_

“ _Ahhn! God! Auugh!_ ” He breathed hard, his whole body shaking like a lone leaf in a cold autumn breeze. He could feel sweat beginning to bead on his flesh as his heart pounded out a stiff staccato. An odd sensation was beginning to tingle in the back of his mind—almost like a drunkenness. There was another audible whack that he physically jerked and recoiled from, the pain spreading out through him and jolting up his spine. “ _Uuugh! Bloody hell!_ ”

“Bernard,” she chided, but her words seemed muffled to his ears. “You're going to alert the whole house to what we're doing.”

He could feel saliva pooling in his mouth. “D-Don't stop, Sophie.” He was the master of this house, goddamn it. He was going to do whatever the hell he wished. The next blow was lower, centered mostly in the crease between his ass and his thighs, the sensitive flesh there screaming along with his feral howl. Perhaps someone would hear him. Perhaps they would know what they were doing—but damned if that wasn't arousing in and of itself. That someone might hear him—that someone might _catch them_. He rubbed his face on the sheets, his hands balled into fists as he pulled against the restraints. Another blow hit him above the last, crossing over the previous welts. “ _Auuuuuuugh! Uh! Ahn!_ ” He swallowed convulsively, breathing into the sheets while his whole body shuddered as though he might shake apart.

_Smack!_

He cried out but it was muffled even to his own ears as the world gradually seemed to melt away, leaving no one but he and Sophie. There was pain, more of it, he was aware. Each subsequent hit should have been far more painful but as she continued, he felt himself rather...removed. God, he loved her...god he loved _this._ He felt drunk, and weightless and only began to come back to himself when he felt her cool hands over his flesh, rubbing over his buttocks and thighs where she had struck him.

_Bernard._

She was inside his head, it seemed like.

_Bernard? Are you quite alright?_

He couldn't answer her, he could barely feel his legs. He felt her hands moving over him, tingling in the places she'd hit him and rubbing over the welts that had risen on his flesh as if to let him absorb the sensations that had placed him here in this bizarre euphoria. He was vaguely aware that he was free, that his wrists were no longer bound and when he was capable again of moving, he found his limbs stiff and the whole of his being unbalanced.

“ _Bernard?_ ” Her voice still seemed like it came from the ethereal, somewhere beyond the veil. He used the bed in an attempt to rise to his feet but nearly immediately tumbled over to the side onto the carpet. “ _Bern! Oh dear!_ ”

Laying on his side, he found her with his arms, her scent perplexed, and pulled her down with him, gathering her against his chest as he lay upon the floor. He held her tight, breathing in the fragrance of her hair and her faint heat scent while he eased a thigh between her legs and kept her near to him. Closeness was his goal.

“Bernard...” she said, her voice very much on his plane now, “Perhaps we should get on the bed.”

“Mmmm...” he responded, unable to form words. He was still producing too much saliva. Making no move to get up, he simply breathed with her, keeping her as tight to him as he could while the hard emotions and deeply rooted euphoria dribbled away, seeping out of his blood and his mind until he was merely Bernard Porter, laying upon the floor with Lady Sophia Nolan in his arms—sort of cold and very sore.

“Bern?” she asked timidly, her hand sliding over his ribs and his waist. “Should it be far too much to ask that...that I have you inside me?”

He blinked stupidly, coming back to himself even further in that moment. “Hmmm...no...not too much to ask. I'm...I'm sorry, Sophie, I seem to have been gathering wool...”

Sophie chuckled a bit, her expression incredulous. “I do not think it was as simple as gathering wool but should you seek to commit to the thought, I will not argue it. Are you pleased with me, Beta? It is difficult to tell by your scent.”

He smiled broadly, the stinging pain still smarting over his ass. “I will show you how pleased I am with you,” he told her, inclining his head to give her a sensual and promising kiss. He toyed with her lips and only shallowly penetrated her mouth with his tongue until he could scent her hunger for him. When he pulled back, he nipped her bottom lip with his teeth lightly. “I am very sore, Omega...I fear that you will have to...”

She laughed, the sound light as a bell. “Have I made you weak, Bernard? I suppose 'tis not anything I have not done before. I will have to take my pleasure of you. I hope you will not mind should I put myself upon your face again...”

He felt shocks of arousal lance through him again and he groaned softly. “Mmmgh, darling...I should never mind your sweet honey upon my lips. Bring me your body and I will drink from you.”

“Oh do not be so poetic. I rather liked you incoherent.” She wriggled in his arms and then helped him, in her small ways, to get himself onto the bed, waiting for him to drag himself with weakened and twitching muscles toward the center while she found the bedclothes and heaped them near to him. “You seem tired, my darling,” she said softly, “Should you like to sleep?”

“I fear I cannot sleep. Not when my betrothed has just called me 'darling' and I have not the wit enough to make her angry at me again to incite her alluring wrath. Your sweet word will haunt me and keep me woken.” He grinned at her, hoping she could hear it in his voice.

She crawled over the bedclothes toward him, finding him with her hands and exploring him tentatively.

“You touch me with such reverence and yet you have only just ceased to beat me with abandon. Are you afraid you might hurt me with such light brushes, Sophie? You don't have to be doubtful. Come to me, Omega...hold me, if you will.” He longed for closeness yet again and she gave it freely, coming down to lay atop him with the whole of her, now naked and shameless in it as she brought her thigh over him to straddle him, his manhood tucked against her lower belly and only half-hard now, though he had no doubt she could easily bring it to full attention. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close until she had buried her nose against his throat, scenting him heavily and squirming until she could reach a hand between them and inch his shaft inside her body, opening herself with him.

She fumbled for the quilts she had heaped beside him and pulled them messily over them both, huddling down over him and wriggling until he was buried as far into her as he could be. “Forgive me, Bern,” she told him, “but it is only that it is far more comfortable to have you like this. It is the heat, you see. It makes little sense but one should not fight it if one does not have to. That is what my mother always told me.”

Bern let himself grin again, focusing upon the feel of her tight passage around him while his fingers caressed her supple skin and giving female form. Her warmth was addicting and he sighed his pleasure even as waves of pain seemed to radiate from his backside. He rocked her, even more aroused at the mixture of conflicting sensations as her body moved over him and his sore rump rubbed against the sheets.

“Bern...” she mewled as he gently rubbed at the topped of her sex with his thumb. She tightened around him as he pleasured her, coming to her peak as quickly as was expected of a woman who was on the frayed edge of her heat. Slick seeped from her and still he took her, closing his eyes to revel in her keening.

“ _Sophie..._ ” he sighed, “ _I'm going to...I'm going to come..._ ”

She moved her hips with him and bent at the waist to kiss him and then whisper with her soft lips to his ear. “ _Please. Please, Bern. I want it. Should the Lord wish it, I would carry your pups._ ”

“ _Oh my god,_ ” he gasped, his vision white and his ears ringing. He came explosively, uncertain in the aftermath if he had ever experienced such a climax in his life. No woman could have ever made him feel like this save Sophia Nolan. No Omega on Earth could have brought him to this point where he would worship her, kiss her feet, let her step upon him as though he were naught but a lowly insect. She was a goddess and a demon both and he was nothing. He deserved nothing. And yet here he was and she _loved him._ He held her tightly down to himself, threading his fingers into the honey tresses of her hair and panting in and out her beautiful fading heat scent. “ _Sophie...Sophie...god, my Omega. My Omega...my Omega..._ ”

She mouthed at his throat, sucking at his flesh until it stung between her lips.

Bern chuckled. “Marking me, my Lady?”

“Only so that no other woman should think to steal you away.”

“Do you believe that they would? I am naught but a Beta man and no Omega has thought to fight over me before...”

She kissed his neck where she had sucked a bruise into his flesh. “It is only when an Omega knows that she cannot have something that she seeks to destroy all to possess it. I will have you, Bern Porter. I will have you until the end of time. You are mine, do you understand?”

He felt a wash of warm tingles flood his body. “Yes, my love. I understand.”

“And I will beat you whenever I so choose. Especially if you have been a naughty Beta. One cannot go unpunished should he be naughty.”

He smiled, rubbing over her back while he focused on the stinging from his bottom. It was going to smart for _days_. “I daresay I have always been a rather ornery fellow.”

“Oh dear,” she teased, “then I suppose I will perfect my technique in short order.”

“I suppose so,” he agreed, elated at her words. “When should you like to be married, my love?”

“As soon as possible.”

“As you wish.”

She hummed with appreciation. “I will like you as a husband, Bernard. Though I cannot help but believe that upon occasion I shall be cross with you.”

“What would the pair of be without a bit of riling up now and again?”

“You tease me.”

“Likewise.”

She shifted over him, testing him as he was still inside her. “I would tell you that I hate you but you will have to do with my telling you that I love you...maliciously.”

He laughed. “I do like the sound of that.”

“Good. I love you, Bern.”

“And I love you, Sophie. With everything I have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New drinking game: Take a shot every time Sophie calls him "Bernard."
> 
> Also: This spiraled so far out of control for me as a writer. What originally was meant to be hate sex and a teeny bit of humiliation kink turned into full-fledged masochism--so...wow. Uh...cool. Stay tuned, we've got a few things to wrap up and I think our hero/heroine combo aren't quite done being kinky.
> 
> Leave a comment here or come chat with me on Twitter: @actualadultJD


	21. Chapter 21

Emmett was strolling around with her in the garden, taking in the scent of the summer blooms. It had been a week or so since she had convinced Bernard to marry her and the Alpha was still coming to grips. His voice was deep and melodic and he'd been shocked when she had come to him asking for him to walk with her. He should have been, after all, she was peevish towards him nearly always. She couldn't blame him for being tentative about spending time with her.

“You know, he didn't ask me for my permission,” he said.

“He obviously knew that it was not required. After all, I am the one who proposed to him in the first place. Nevertheless, we will be married. Hopefully sooner than later.”

Emmett was quiet for a moment. “How did such a thing happen to my fiery sister? How has he done such a thing to you as to tame you?”

“ _Tame_ me?” she laughed. “Emmett, you fool. He's done no such thing and I daresay he should throw himself from a balcony should he think he has.”

He sighed. “Sophie...I haven't protected you the way that I should have. This whole time, I thought...well I thought I was doing a decent enough job at it, keeping all of my sins from you. But really, I've done so poorly at it that _this_ has all happened. Porter...he's...he's a good man. It could have gone worse for you, I suppose.”

“You speak of him as though I have been forced to love him. You know that's not true.” She almost wanted to trip him with her cane but she held back.

“I know it's not true,” he admitted, his voice grumbling and soft. “He's done a far more decent job of protecting you than I have. It's got me cross is all. Cross with him, cross with myself.”

“Emmett...do something for me, would you?”

“Yes, Sophie.”

“Help Mr. Porter with the whiskey. Help him with the tenants. Make certain he doesn't have to fight to make up for your mistakes. He's been a very foolish Beta in his love for me and I should hate to see him ruined because of it.”

His Alpha scent seemed to spice with a strange indignation. “I would kill any man who should seek to ruin him. He's done more for our family than anyone could have ever expected or asked...despite being the reason for our decline...”

“ _You_ are the reason for our decline, Emmett,” she snapped. “Don't you ever forget your own shame.”

“Of course...” He sighed through his nose. “I...I heard that Porter may go to London soon. You will go with him, of course.”

“He has not said anything to me about it,” she replied, suddenly irritated. It seemed just like men to blather about gossip to those they knew would be irked by it. It was not the season and if Bernard were to be doing business there, it didn't seem like he would want Sophie with him. Aside from that, that his fiancee was to be spending a great deal of time with him—living with him, even. If there were any of the ton that could be scandalized in London, she supposed that there would be chatter. “You do not think he would want the papers talking about how I am residing in the same home...”

“Sophie, the papers barely ever chat about the affairs of Beta men. They're not interesting. Beside that, you're not the typical debutante. You're already mired in my scandals, you might as well be mired in your own.” He puffed another sigh through his nose. “It is decent of him to marry you. Lord knows, he did not have to. I'm not very good with a pistol.”

She perked her ears. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well...” he paused, clearly studying her. “When a man...compromises an Omega...that is, offends her honor...”

“You mean because he and I have made love?”

His scent grew immediately embarrassed and he cleared his throat, obviously flustered. Sophie inwardly took pride in her ability to unsettle him and gave him a small smile.

“Perhaps you should be wise enough to know that any of our coupling was certainly not Bernard's idea to begin with. You know how I can be.”

He cleared his throat even louder. “Sophie, I don't wish to know any details. The mysteries of whatever it is that makes a Beta tick do not suffer for my curiosity. I am simply glad to know that he is of an honorable sort...if not a little slippery.”

“All men are slippery,” she told him lightly. “Every time I think I have one under my foot, he always seems to wriggle off. Speaking of, excuse me brother, I'll simply have to chat with Mr. Porter about his plans to leave for London. Will you walk me to the study or shall I go myself?” She felt quite pleased with herself indeed for how she'd handled her brother and went with him, holding his elbow until they were admitted into the study that Bern had taken for his own work at Broadspear.

Even just the sound of his mild voice was enough to send prickles over her skin and incite a sweetness in her scent that she was sure was absolutely mortifying for her brother. “Hello, my Lady.” As an aside, he added, “My Lord...”

Emmett tactfully patted Sophie's hand. “I think I ought to leave you two to chat, hmm? Wouldn't want to be in the way at all.”

“Of course,” she provided as he let her go and made his retreat. Engaged couples more often had certain liberties that otherwise they would not...though Sophie hardly thought her brother would even bother considering propriety anymore when it came to she and Bernard—they were far past that point. She took in a sharp breath through her nose, scenting him easily. “I heard that you were to go to London.”

“Yes,” he replied easily, “and I had hoped that I might convince you to come.”

“You wouldn't want me there...would you?”

“Why not? I had actually rather counted on it, you should know.”

Sophie felt her heart squeeze. “You had?”

“Of course I had.” His voice was warm and soft. “In fact, I had already contacted a man about waltzing lessons. I know it will not be so exciting there as it is out of season but if there are any families in London at the moment, perhaps they would be keen to have you over to dine. If not for any other reason, they would adore knowing the details of your brother's fall from grace.”

“How lurid.”

“You cannot begrudge the vultures for their nature, can you?”

She scoffed and put out her hand which he took in his, squeezing her fingers lightly before he led her toward the window where she could feel the sun shining through the glass. “You would not tire of me interrupting your business?”

“I could never tire of you.”

She smiled. “Should you say that when we are old and gray together?”

“I should.” His thumb swiped over the backs of her fingers, sending pricks of sensation through her body as her heart began a steady thudding in her chest. “We are quite alone here, are we not?”

“We are.”

“It thought as much. See...I cannot have too many people overhear me tell you sweet things or they might begin to suspect that I hold affection toward you.”

He chuckled. “And it is a secret?”

“I like to imagine that it is. I had spent a great deal of time disliking you, after all. It would not do to be thought of as mercurial.”

She could hear the smirk in his voice. “You are an Omega. What was it I just said about begrudging someone of their nature?”

Sophie sought to shut him up by leaning toward him and finding his face with her free hand, guiding him as she laid a kiss over his lips, the thrill of it beading the tips of her breasts. She wished she had more time with him but one could never be so fortunate. He explained to her between soft, intimate kisses, that they would leave for London on the morrow if it was suitable to her and that he would have to finish his business here so that he might be ready to leave. Eager to go, she assented and left him but not before she had nibbled upon the soft lobe of his ear to elicit from him a sparkle of arousal in his scent and a playful growl from his throat.

London would be nice, she thought. It would be quiet and she could spend more time with the staff of his house in town, getting to know them all and becoming acquainted with the idea of being married to a rather mild and suitable gentleman. He was certainly something and perhaps the word “suitable” wasn't exactly the correct fit. He had, after all, obtained an invitation to her brother's party in order to spy on him. But such adventures did not seem as though they were the _spirit_ of the man. He was a _Beta._ She thought about him nearly every moment that he was not in the same room.

Late morning the next day, she was being scolded by Kerridan as she put on her gloves he'd set out which matched her traveling gown.

“You are entirely too transparent, my Lady. You must hook the fish and then when he is lazy, you must reel him in. You're practically in the water with him.”

“What can you mean?” She frowned as she tried to button the tiny button on the glove's wrist.

“I mean that you've hooked him. Now do not waste this opportunity. You may tease him but to give him everything he wishes without being first married to him is poor practice. You're no better than a courtesan if you've not procured his ring.” He gently tapped her on the tip of her nose before he took her hands from her fumbling and easily buttoned up her gloves.

“You do not think he would break the engagement...” A sudden lingering discontentment welled up in her stomach.

“In my honest opinion, I think the man would slit his own throat before he would let you go. Nevertheless...I think you should be careful. He is a sly devil though no doubt a devil who loves you very much.”

She felt her face warm and it was warm still when she climbed into the coach with that very sly devil whose scent was still very much like warmed moss and old stone. Whose contentment smelt like dry wine and the sparkling touch of champagne. He smelled like long walks in the spring when the cold nipped at the tip of ones ears but brought with it a promise of something beautiful just barely around the corner.

“Bernard,” she said lightly.

“Sophie.”

“It cannot be right that we will be sitting in this coach for a long time together without a chaperone.”

“Forgive me, your brother did not wish to come. Are you having second thoughts?”

“No. But I may ravish you. You should not leave yourself alone with characters of questionable repute. You know I am a ruffian.” She smiled playfully but in the back of her mind, Kerridan's words picked at her. Should she _not_ ravish the man? She very much liked to have power over him...to keep herself entertained with him and to know for certain that he was to marry her.

“Do I detect some misgivings in your scent, my Lady? Are you nervous about London?”

“I'm nervous about marriage.”

“Oh dear.”

She reached out toward him, finding his hand where it rested on is knee. “Oh no. Not marriage...mostly waiting for the ceremony. I wish it could all be done and over with so that I might have your ring and know that you will be mine. Forever. You see, I am ruthless in my pursuit.”

“I see.” There was a grin in his voice. “Well then I will not keep you waiting, little one. I've already spoken to the vicar and he will marry us in a month's time. I hope you do not mind an autumn wedding and a modest one at that...” There was a trail of something odd in his voice.

“Bernard? What's the matter?”

“It is nothing.”

“Do you not know by now that I can smell a lie from a Beta twenty miles from here? Do not make me spank you.”

Chuckling, he replied easily. “Alright, you harpy. It is only that my contractor who had agreed to work upon the distillery at Broadspear has ceased all contact with me and I cannot seem to get him to answer to my letters.” His scent was brooding and sputtered into an odd rustic scent as though she had wandered into a library filled with dust and aged books. Pensive thoughtfulness. Worry. “I've spent a great deal...I needed a contractor who could do a damned decent job for a good price and I'd hate to lose them.”

“What do you think has happened?”

“I've sent Wagner to find out for me but I decided to go to town to meet with him for the results. If you're asking, I'd hate to suggest what I think for I am hoping to come away from it appearing an alarmist. I know you're curious so when we have our answer, I will surely tell you.” He turned his hand and gently held her fingers. “I will not hide anything from you, Sophie. Ever.”

“And if you are drawn into ruin for your pursuit of me?”

“I will not be. I have no debts to any man at current and I am merely thin on cash...not assets. I have a decent number of investments at current that have reliable returns but they are not enough to sink into the project designed to recover my spending on the estate.”

“So you will have to procure a loan.”

He sighed, his pause long and drawn-out. “No. At least...I don't intend to. Is there any fashion in which I might distract you from any line of questioning you might have in mind? I cannot think of finances when I look at your radiant beauty...it ruins the view much as an ugly stone edifice might ruin the visage of a rolling green hill.”

“You flatter me.”

“I could not do it enough, my Lady.”

“I should slap you for your impertinence.”

“My rump is still sore and you would punish me still?” he asked cheekily.

She pulled out her fan and slapped over the top of his thigh, feeling him wince a bit. “I do hope your staff at your house in town is similarly adept at remaining discreet as that in the country.”

“Do not worry yourself over how loudly you can make me scream, little one.” He was laughing now, his amusement washing away the musty tones of his anxiety. “Should all of London know what you do to me, I should not care in the least. It is only that they will be scandalized...they've certainly had—and heard—worse.”

“Gracious, perhaps I should have you read those papers to me...they sound like they may be intriguing.”

There was a rustle of papers and his smile was evident. “Ah, then I will regale you with the tales of Sir Brontenberry and his fiancee's illicit affair with another gentleman. A rousing tale.”

“Arousing?” she teased, opening her fan and touching the lace to her lips while she grinned.

“Less for him, more for her, it sounds.”

“Wonderful. Entertain me for our ride, Bernard. Perhaps I will find some way to entertain _you_ when we've arrived...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bern and Sophie cackling over society papers before fucking sounds so very on-brand.


	22. Chapter 22

It took days to track the devil down but when they had, he'd had quite the story to tell. Wagner had caught the man hiding in the closet situated in his office, his terrified scent having given him away. When they'd gotten him calmed down enough to tell them both the tale, he was still shaking with his teacup fair rattling where it sat on its saucer in his hand. The contractor appeared mad, almost, looking this way and that in the small, neatly organized office, and Bern couldn't help but feel awful for his mental state.

“Y-You see,” he supplied in his soft Beta tone, “there are a fine number of contractors you might have do the work for you and I can't imagine w-why you would n-need _me_ of all people. I am hardly...the...the _best..._ ”

“That's rubbish and you know it, Mr. Graves. You're a fine contractor and you've dealt with this architect all your career. Why now? Why this? What's happened?”

“I can't tell you, Mr. Porter. I fear for my life. That you're even here now will put me in jeopardy. I shall have to go to the country and into hiding.”

“Fantastic,” Wagner supplied, “you can go into hiding at Broadspear and work on the construction.”

“Wait...” Bern mused. “You've been threatened.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“For the distillery.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bern gave Wagner a meaningful glance and the Alpha raised his brows. “We can take him to Broadspear but we'd be best off if we did nothing on the project. This isn't an isolated incident and I'm no rube. First this happens. If I find another contractor or a way around it and sink myself in deeper, then some kind of _accident_ occurs. I see the plot unraveling before my very eyes.”

Wagner shrugged and pulled a cigar from the inside of his coat pocket. “If you say so, Beta. I won't pretend I've the same foresight as you have.”

It was a terribly straight-forward sort of plan with someone hideously nefarious at the center of it. It was the same sort of ruse that must have wrapped its dubious claws around Emmett—after all, Lord Broadspear wasn't falling willy-nilly into investment scams at the first. But how was Bern supposed to catch these blackguards? How was he to prove that they were at the heart of this? Not only this, but how could he bring them to their knees? The mysterious “M” character was certainly the ringleader and though Bern thought that perhaps the man must have been far from reach, his cronies would have more information. But who was working under him and why?

Bern stroked his chin. “Alright, Mr. Graves. If you've a need to go into hiding, I will put you up at Broadspear or you may wish to stay with family in the countryside. It would perhaps be prudent for you to remain close to your loved ones. I will make it known that I am no longer working on the project with you and have found an alternative...”

“Oh thank god...”

“But only so far as to throw the scent. Mr. Graves, I do seek your services.”

His face appeared ashen, his scent horrified.

“After I've seen the men who threatened you are in prison. Now. Tell me about them.”

“There's naught to tell, sir. It was mostly in letters. They were cold, cold letters, sir.”

“Do you have them?”

“I do. Not a trace of scent upon them, sir. Not that I could tell.” He stood and rifled through his drawer until he found the documents he needed, handing them over to Bern as though he handed over a venomous snake. He then looked at Wagner, his eyes wide. “You're that...that private investigator...”

Wagner grinned, playing with his unlit cigar. “I am.”

Bern waved a dismissing hand. “My cousin.”

“Well that's a stroke of luck, innit?” Graves asked. “He's near infamous, you know.”

The Beta flashed his glance back over to his cousin. “I suppose I should have known. He's a damned good investigator.”

Wagner nodded. “You're not bad yourself, Bernard. You might think of getting more into it. You can slink your way damned near anywhere unnoticed.”

He grumbled while he read through the papers, the handwriting distinct though different from what he remembered of “M”'s script. “It is hardly the profession of a respectable gentleman. Mr. Graves, I suggest you find yourself a hack and take yourself into the country this very night.”

“I'll stay with family, sir.”

“Alright. Send word to Mr. Horne here if anything else should happen. We'll find the person responsible for this nonsense and put an end to it.”

“I hope you do, Mr. Porter. That distillery would be quite the boon for me. This affects my business as much as it affects yours.”

“I understand,” he replied grimly, tucking the letters into his coat pocket. He had held them to his nose to smell them but could detect nothing, just as the man had claimed. The sort of man who would purchase parchment and take as much care as this one did not to scent it as he was writing it—it was the sort of man who might be afraid of having been discovered for who or what he really was. And of course, with letters such as these, anyone who could have written them would certainly be at risk of extortion charges, the same way “M” would have been. But Bern felt different about these letters—these were closer to him. These were _about_ him...or they were at least about Broadspear Manor.

Back in the coach, he stretched out his legs, forcing Wagner to make room for him in a peculiar motion that had the Alpha frowning. In truth, it wasn't to be impertinent but mostly to relieve the soreness in his rump and the backs of his thighs. “Do you think it is me? Or do you think it is Broadspear? The manor...not the man.”

“Perhaps it would be the man as well. Any who harbor him being the target of a larger revenge scheme?” Wagner fiddled with his still-unlit cigar, wiggling it between two fingers. “In this case, my opinion is that it is probably you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you're despicable.”

“Is this the pot calling the kettle black? I shan't be shocked. If that is the case, however, I wonder what I did to deserve such a thing.” He spent the rest of the coach ride mulling it over and when they were back at his house in town, he was still turning it over in his head, forgetting that Wagner was still behind him when they came through the parlor doors and Sophia was sitting upon the settee near the cracked window, listening to the birds twittering outside.

“Oh...” Wagner said suddenly at the sight of her.

Bern's heart was beating too hard. “Drat, Wagner, why don't you—”

“My Lady,” he had already started, giving her a deep and formal bow as her head turned in his direction. “Wagner Horne, private investigator.”

“You're not supposed to introduce _yourself_ , Wagner,” Bern scoffed.

“Well it gets the job done, doesn't it? Aside, who could resist coming to know this beautiful creature?”

Sophie's face formed a delicate little smile that, to all others would have seemed a warm and passive reception of a compliment. To Bern's discerning eye, she was most certainly amused and feeling rather playful today. “Why, Mr. Horne. It is almost as though I've known you for how often Mr. Porter speaks of you. You and he must be so close.”

Bern felt his polite smile tighten a little.

Wagner let out a loose laugh. “Really? A right bastard he is to me.”

“Oh dear. I couldn't imagine that you might deserve such treatment. Tell me, what have you found? I am eager to know the course of your investigations.” She motioned to the settee across from her and Wagner sat as he was invited. “Should you like some tea, Mr. Horne?”

“I would love some tea,” he replied, his voice much too brash and _Alpha_ for the small parlor, grating upon Bern's ears. He couldn't imagine what it was doing to Sophie's senses.

Bern rang the bell and at Kerridan's arrival, Sophie made her order.

“Kerridan, do be a dear and bring us some tea. An herbal for Mr. Horne, please. He may not know it at current, but I do believe he's coming down with a head cold.”

“You don't say?” Wagner replied, a frown coming to his features. “I've been told that folks of your sort might be able to sense things that the average person could not but whether or not I am coming down with a cold? That is certainly an interesting trick. Is it in my scent?”

“Oh no,” Sophie told him delicately, “it is most certainly in your tone, sir. I've a very, very sensitive ear.”

“And make no mistake, a _very_ sensitive nose,” Bern explained as well, studying her mischievous expression. She was up to something...he knew it.

“Well she might need one, dealin' with the likes of you, Beta.”

“Do you suggest sir, that my fiancé may perhaps have committed some indiscretion? Shall he require punishment?” Her words were light and teasing but Bern heard a small and incredulous little laugh escape his own throat. “Fear not, Mr. Horne. I do my own sort of investigations. Mr. Porter is, surely, a man of the utmost integrity.”

“Generous of you, considering,” he laughed coarsely as the tea was brought in. He gave Bern an entertained sort of look as if begging him to tell him later whether or not the Omega was having him on. Bern ignored him while he poured he and Sophie's tea from the pot Kerridan had motioned to and then poured whatever herbal blend was in the other pot for Wagner. Whatever it was, it was fairly _green_ and smelled interesting, to say the least. “I say...what an odd tea.”

Sophie smiled and this time Bern was absolutely certain that the girl was a menace. “It may not get rid of all the symptoms of your coming cold, Mr. Horne, but do know that you will certainly not be bedridden. You'll feel fit as a fiddle...though you may sniffle.”

“Well if that's the case, I suppose I should take care to drink it. When I am under the weather, it does take a great deal out of me, I don't mind sayin'.”

Bern rolled his eyes. “Forgive me, Wagner, but for a man who is supposedly discrete, you don't mind saying quite a lot.”

Sophie admonished him. “Bernard...do not be rude to guests.”

“He's not my guest, he's my family.”

“All the more reason to be kind.”

Wagner gave him a smug smirk. “That's right, _Bernard_. All the more reason to be kind to me, your only decent cousin.”

Bern popped a brow and gave a glance to the only other Beta who had not yet left the room. Kerridan did meet his eyes but gave away nothing of his opinion in that small glance and made his exit silently, unnoticed by the Alpha in the room.

Wagner was still cheerily gabbing on. “How do you like London, my Lady? I wouldn't think you would spend much time here, would you?”

“London has been wonderful,” Sophie told him, her smile suddenly real. “Mr. Porter and I have taken dancing lessons. Of course, he is already a marvelous dancer and the instructor must tire of me sometimes. I can be very clumsy. Nevertheless, I have found them very fun and I do like dancing—though perhaps Mr. Porter's feet should have reason to dislike the activity.”

“You've not stepped on them overmuch,” he chided, smiling into his teacup. In truth, she hadn't. Sophie had a brilliant mind for remembering steps and had taken to dancing like a fish to water. As good as she was, she would never admit it, seeing every time she stepped on his toes as a critical failure. He was certain she would never give up but, in the case that she was discouraged, he sought to curb the notion that she was in any way deficient.

Wagner sipped his tea, frowning at the taste but dutifully taking it like a child would his medicine. They chatted a bit but Sophie's original query as to their progress in their investigation was avoided—mostly by Wagner who very often did not believe it an Omega's place to know of the sordid details of his business. The Alpha couldn't begin to fathom the sort of Omega Sophie Nolan really was, Bern thought wryly. Soon, but not soon enough for Bern's nerves, Wagner made his way out, clearing his throat before he gave Sophie another bow and thanked her for her company.

When he was gone, Bern turned to her where she still sat on the settee. “Well. That could have gone better.”

“How is that, Bernard?”

“I could have left him on the street. I can't believe myself...I wasn't thinking.”

“I thought it went splendidly. After all, you won't have to speak with him for another few days.”

Bern came to her, unable to resist curling a lock of her hair that had come free behind her ear. “What do you mean?”

“His cold, Bernard. A terrible case. He won't be able to speak for days.”

He frowned at her, a hardness coming to his tone. “Sophie, tell me what this cold business is about. You can't really tell when a man's been stricken by some sickness.”

She giggled. “No. But I can give him some tea that will do it very nicely.”

He balked at her, his mind forming around her words. “You've...you've poisoned my cousin.”

“I cannot tell if you are angry at me...your scent is conflicted. Bernard, please note that he will suffer nothing terrible. His throat will likely not even hurt. He will simply...” she shrugged, “...not bother you for a little while. It's perfectly safe.”

“And Kerridan has helped you to do this?”

“Many times. As you can imagine, my first victim was my brother. It's been tested thoroughly.” She gave another chuckle. “Perhaps I should have given you the same tea.”

“Perhaps I should be the one spanking _you_ ,” he replied. “What a woman you are...what a little devil.”

“Tell me about your adventures today. Tell me what you've found. I know you've got something or you wouldn't have been so lost in your thoughts to have forgotten to leave your dog at the door.”

He snorted out a short laugh and then came next to her on the settee, pulling the letters Mr. Graves had given him and filtering through them. “The contractor, Graves. He'd been sent these letters threatening him. I'm beginning to understand that this is a matter of obstruction. If they can stop me from making any of my plans a reality, then...well...”

Sophie took the letters in her hands and brought them to her nose, carefully smelling the edges. “Then you would be forced to find a loan,” she provided. “And...of course...”

“Of course?”

“Of course,” she told him, turning her head to face him. “Can't you smell it? It's as plain as day to me.”

“Smell what? There is no scent on these papers.”

“There is Alpha here on this parchment,” she told him bluntly. “There is Alpha on these parchments...and one that _I have smelled before..._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who thinks Wagner didn't deserve that...he probably did.
> 
> **Up Next:** Sophie and Bern solve a mystery!


	23. Chapter 23

Sophie had been quite impatient. She was keen upon making a move as soon as they had known who was responsible for the dastardly plot but Bernard was far more shrewd than she was. She knew she was impulsive and devilish—everyone told her so. But Bern was a man who knew when to hold his cards close and when to wait for the opportune time to strike. He told her he had plenty of other projects to focus upon before they would make their next movement and she couldn't possibly argue when she found that one of those projects was his marriage.

They were wed in a small affair on the grounds of Broadspear with her brother and some of Bernard's friends in attendance. She did not know the color of her gown and didn't care to know, aware only that it was the finest of silks and that she was keen to take it off as soon as she could so that she might have against her flesh the man she had pledged to abhor for all time. How hatred for Bern had transformed itself love was one mystery she could not puzzle out—how had he done this to her? Weaseled into her heart like this and planted himself there... She did love him. Desperately.

They were in London again when the season began and Lady Sophia was really all any of the little debutantes were interested in. Bernard, it seemed, had been a staple at certain parties and in certain circles and Sophie was happy to note that there were plenty of mothers quite upset that someone had come to snatch up the “only suitable dance partner” for their sweet girls.

Despite the crush of scents around her, she knew immediately when Bernard was with her. “It seems I've stolen something from these mothers.”

“Oh?” he asked, placing her glass of punch in her hand. “What is that?”

“From what I've picked out—it is a tad difficult for me with all of these different voices—I've married the only man who they could trust not to take their girls out upon the terrace for a kiss. I haven't known you to be an honorable man, Bernard, what in the world could they really be upset about?”

He chuckled low in her ear. “I was quite the gentleman before I met you, Sophie.”

“Yes, quite the gentleman...the man who rifled through my brother's papers to find out if he was a criminal. Very gentlemanly.”

“Are you doubting me? I'll be the perfect gentleman...up until the point where I am not.”

He was quiet for a moment and she took the opportunity to sip at her punch before she addressed him again. “Did you dance with many Omegas before you met me?”

“Not many. A few. A Beta gentleman is often not permitted.”

“Permitted? Is there a rule?”

“No rule. It is only through self-preservation that a man keeps himself from straying too far from his own rank.” He kissed her hair on the side of her head, careful not to ruin her coiffure. “I'd had sense before I met you, little Sophie. After having come into your acquaintance, I lost much of it. I could have let your brother put me down just to kiss you again.”

“Are my kisses so intoxicating?”

“My opium.”

She turned toward him, finishing her punch and handing it over for him to put down on a nearby table. “You know just what to say to me. Tell me. Are we close to our hostess? I have yet to greet her and I cannot smell a damned thing in this place...it is like being washed away in the ocean for me here.”

“It is no better with sight, I promise you. It's nearly impossible to find anyone at the Hayworth Manor during this damned ball. Nevertheless, take my arm, darling. Lady Hayworth will be charmed by you.”

“Are you certain?”

“Oh yes.”

Lady Hayworth had a sparkling scent that was floral and brilliant and stood out quite well against the crowd. Sophie found herself absolutely delighted by it when the woman took her hand and squeezed at her fingers.

The older Omega sighed and touched at Sophie's cheek with her thumb. “Oh how stunning you are, Lady Sophia. Your brother is a scoundrel for one reason alone and that is for hiding you away. What beauty could be kept from my ballroom? And to marry such an interesting gentleman...”

Sophie smirked. “I suppose one might think it apt that a Beta should resort to marrying a girl like me...”

Lady Hayworth made a short gasp. “Oh dare not commit such blasphemy! I think we both know that a Beta man is quite worth his weight in gold when one finds his peculiar idiosyncrasies. There is much to discover underneath the façade that a man hides behind. Your Beta cannot be a boring sort...”

“One sometimes wishes he were.” Bern pinched her side and she giggled. “No, no! I daresay he's quite the handful. Did you know him a proficient ass?”

Lady Hayworth gave a ladylike snort of laughter. “Oh dear, Mr. Porter, I consider your wife a true hidden gem! How frank you are, my Lady. Do find yourself a good time and should you need anything, be certain to let me know.” She squeezed at Sophie's fingers again before she let her go and Sophie tilted her head toward Bern.

“I think I would like a waltz with you, Beta.”

“I think I would like to tip you right off the side of the terrace, Omega.”

She walked with him as he led her presumably to the dance floor. “Do not make me spank you.”

“Oh, I will definitely make you spank me.”

His pronouncement came at the same time she heard the musicians working up toward a waltz and she felt giddy elation coming over her. “Do waltz with me, husband. I very much would like to dance with you. I'm terribly proud of how well I can do and since I cannot see anyone else here, I cannot know just how poorly I am doing in comparison.”

“How does a woman maintain such confidence while also undermining her own abilities? I shall never understand the oddities of women.”

“Do not all Omegas do such things?”

“Perhaps the men of such a persuasion do so as well, but the ton is not saturated with such examples and so I have nothing by which to compare.” He was chuckling as he led her out over the hard floor and placed her hands so that they might dance. “Women...and Omegas...are a complete mystery to me.”

“I cannot know why you should think so. We are so transparent.”

“How is that?” he asked as the measures began and he led her over the dance floor.

She was focusing on the steps she had memorized and could not answer him immediately until she had found her pattern and rhythm. “Well...we are simple creatures. All we need is someone to love us. In all ways. Not simply romantically. Appreciation, respect, and affection are what we need to thrive.”

His voice was low. “Oh I do appreciate you, my Lady.”

“You also respect me.”

“Absolutely. A man who does not takes his life in his hands.”

“And you show me affection.”

“I would show you more if I were not strapped down most of the time.” He laughed lowly to himself.

Sophie was smiling as he whirled her about, strong and confident in his motions. She was never more happy to have her Beta when she was around so many stinking Alphas. The scents were strong and mingled together in such a horrible array that after their waltz, she requested some time upon the terrace. With her shawl about her shoulders, she stood by the doors with him at her elbow, taking some time to clear her nose with the cool fresh air. She fiddled with the ring on her finger and leaned into him, pressing her head against the nook of his shoulder.

“Bernard?”

“Yes, Sophie?”

“I...I love you. I wanted to remind you of that.”

His scent was glittering with contentedness and his arm came around her to squeeze her gently. “Then I should take care to remind you as well. I love you, Sophie.” He kissed her head again.

She took in a breath and for a moment, her heart skipped a beat. “Bern?”

“Yes?”

“He's here.”

A sigh escaped him. “Just as I was getting quite cozy with you. I suppose that just must be how life is. Are you ready?”

She was thrumming with anxiety. “Yes.”

“Yes? You do not smell ready.”

Sophie took in a deep breath, training her emotions to tamp down on the nervousness in her sweat. She felt like they had been waiting overly long. She felt like every moment they did not deal with the issue was just another moment she would have to feel concern for Bernard and his finances. The Beta, for his part, did not seem worried in the slightest. In fact, he had merely paused in all of his work at Broadspear and had focused solely upon the progress he had been making at his own estate. His insistence that everything happen within its own time was infuriating to a woman who was bent upon getting everything she wanted when she wanted it and not a minute later.

Now was the moment. She took a step away from him and put her hands delicately in front of her as he let her go. She followed the scent, searching for it without regard to those around her and moving through them with her hands out, parting them gracefully. She kept her nose trained for this particular Alpha, having known the scent for much of her life.

She found him about halfway across the room, her hand coming to him and placed flat against what she discovered was his back when he turned about and found her.

“Lady Sophia? What in the world are you doing here?”

“Good Evening, Lord Delevan. I apologize but I seem to have lost my husband. We had a pact that should we be parted, we should find each other in the west parlor. Might you escort me there?”

His incredulous chuckle was not threatening but she found it to give her gooseflesh despite. He gently took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow, his scent enveloping her as he walked with her slowly. “And here I thought Porter to be quite the gentleman...how could he leave his brilliant wife at the mercy of the ton?”

“Oh, perhaps he was waylaid. There are so many things upon his mind recently. Broadspear has been handful.”

“The estate or your brother?”

“My Lord,” she smiled, hoping it wasn't too devilish. “you know my brother now. He is as meek and mild toward my husband as a chastised child.”

Delevan let out a little sniff of disapproval. An Alpha kowtowing to a Beta was unacceptable in any sense and any circumstance for most. “Your brother has never been the strongest Alpha...forgive me for saying, my Lady.”

“Even I can whip him into submission,” she replied and then grinned to herself, sure now that it must have appeared quite roguish indeed. “But then again, I can whip Bernard into submission quite easily as well. I'd take care, if I were you, you've a rather volatile bit of Omega on your arm.”

He laughed and opened the door to the parlor, the smell of the fire in the hearth and the warm scent of books lying about calming her a bit. “I do not think, for a moment, that even you could bring me to my knees, little Lady Sophie.”

“You do not?” she asked as the door closed behind them. “Oh dear, I cannot smell my husband. It seems that we have beaten him here. I can only hope to draw from you some scintillating conversation in the meantime...why do you not think me capable of destroying you, my Lord? I have known you so long...there must be something I could tell your prospective wife that will turn her tail to run.” She let him go, slipping toward the warmth of the fireplace. She had to remind herself for a moment that she was not trapped in here with him...it was the other way 'round. _He_ was the one who was trapped. The thought bolstered her.

He took in a breath through his nose. “I suppose there are some things that might make a woman pause before she took me for her mate...but I could easily discredit you.”

“Could you? You do not think me capable of acting the innocent?”

He paused and was no doubt regarding her carefully. “You could not be so unkind to me. I am like your brother. Your better brother.”

“My brother is a fool and you, my _better_ brother have only outdone him in one facet—how duplicitous you can be.”

His scent took a sharp note. “I'm sorry?” His voice was near to where she thought the settee was placed and she turned toward him, schooling her features to remain placid.

“You were the Alpha who sought to ruin Bernard's plans to make Broadspear profitable. You threatened the contractors and your next step in the plot was as clear to us as it was to you. Should he find another, more expensive option, you would have caused some kind of accident to occur that would destroy it and force him to rebuild it. He would have spent too much money in the process and you would have offered him a loan.”

“What?” he asked, breathless. “Sophie, your husband has obviously kept you alone too often for your mind to conjure these falsities. How could you see me this way? After all these years?”

“You were the Alpha who first loaned my brother money. You were his friend...it made sense to him to accept a loan from his friend...surely you would not do wrong by him.”

He was quiet and had not moved, emboldening her.

“You took his friendship and turned it into a weapon against him. You offered him more and more money and I suspect much of that money was not yours to offer. Why? Why would you do such a thing?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Do not bother denying it. Your scent was detectable on the letter that was sent to Mr. Graves. It was you who threatened the man's life. I already know you've done it and I already know why you've done it. So you could trap my husband into a loan with such a high interest that there was no possible manner in which he could have repaid you. If he had taken the loan, you would have destroyed any of his methods of repaying you, sabotaging him until he was desperately selling estates and heirlooms, blackmailing him until he was defrauding his friends in much the same manner as my brother. You would attempt to reduce him to nothing.”

His scent was harsh and grating like fire and blood. “Sophie...” he began, his voice low and dangerous. “How...how have you...”

“Come to know this? Oh you Alphas always think Omegas are incapable little creatures, with no real minds. You should have known better than that, my Lord. I have always been like this.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I'd like to make you a deal, my Lord.”

“A deal?”

“Of course. You know I've never loved him. My marriage to him was in the interest of avoiding certain poverty—you understand.”

His breath in was sharp. “Of—Of course...yes.”

 _Oh, Alphas. So easily led._ Sophie smiled. “You and I, together, will place one third of your extortion earnings into an account for me and me alone. Then, when he is driven to ruin and there is nothing left of him, I will make his death appear a suicide and retire a widow at Broadspear...as I do not wish for the estate to be caught up your scheme. In the end, I wish for nothing but my share and for Broadspear...that seems quite fair to me.”

“My Lady, my plans did not include murder...”

“Mine do.”

He was quiet for a few moments before she heard him sit on the settee with a _whumf_ against the cushions. “You are a...brutal woman, Sophie.”

“Is that an agreement?”

“What would you do if I told you that it was not?”

“Ruin you.”

“I could ring your little bitch neck right here.” He wouldn't. He wasn't committed enough. She could hear it in his voice. He sighed when she didn't speak and kept her expression expectant. “Fine. If that's how you wish to play this game then that's how it will be played. I am not the only man who make decisions in this, you understand. There will be other parties involved...”

“I care not about them. I care about my share and about Broadspear. If you cannot guarantee me those things, then I will insist upon seeing these other men. Do I know them?”

“Certainly not.”

“Promise me then. Promise me my life, _better brother_. I have waited far too long to live it.”

Delevan sighed again, long and deep. “Yes. I promise. You will have yours. Gods, I knew you were a difficult woman, Sophie...but I had not considered you a woman of such villainy...”

“My Lord,” she replied thoughtfully, “you have but encountered only the beginning of its depth...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The BRUTALITY.


	24. Chapter 24

Bern had his head leaning back upon the wall as he stood with Wagner and Inspector Selkirk, their Alpha scents suppressed by a peculiar sort of soap that had them smelling much more like Betas than otherwise. It was only too easy to hear Sophie plotting his murder, a ruse they had cooked up together in the depth of a night when discussing how, in fact, they might draw out the truth or at least a concession of sorts from Delevan.

It had worked splendidly. He didn't move when Wagner and the Inspector did, letting them rush into the room to inform Lord Delevan that the whole of the conversation had been witnessed by an officer of the law and, of course, the infamous Wagner Horne himself. Delevan seemed overly shocked, incredulous that his perception of Sophie had been so thoroughly skewed as to believe that she could ever have been so hideous a woman.

A murderess? Sophie? Bernard smiled and chuckled to himself as he finally roused himself from where he stood and emerged into the parlor, content at the expression of bland stupor upon Delevan's face. He spoke easily as the Inspector began to write down the charges in his notepad. “My Lord, I cannot blame you for your easy belief in Sophie's ability to kill me. I very much believe in such a possibility as well.”

Sophie tsked him. “Oh please, Bernard, do not be dramatic. Should I have ever even gained the inkling to kill you, I would have done so already.”

“Mark me not a coward, then,” he grinned. “I love you, Omega. In all your villainy.”

“There is but one thing that bothers me,” she mused, frowning.

“What is that?”

She tilted her head toward where Delevan sat. “You are not _M._ Who is he? You claimed that you were not the only man who made decisions in this endeavor. This is obviously a racket of some kind. African mines...false investments...capturing men in loan scams and fraud...there is more than just you gaining from the manufactured misfortune of others...who is he?”

The Alpha sniffed. “Forget it, Omega. You couldn't understand.”

“Speaks a man who was outwitted by me,” she teased. “You and my brother are much the same. Your Alpha confidence only serves to trip you. This is why it is advantageous to marry a Beta man. He will never destroy himself in his confidence.”

“I rely on you to destroy me,” Bern quipped, ignoring the quirked brow of the Inspector and knowing stare of Wagner who had since become aware that his “cold” had been the work of a clever and devious Sophie. “But my wife is right...we're going to determine who the mysterious man is who has pulled your strings, Delevan. You might as well tell us who he is and perhaps the law will be more inclined to take it easy on you.”

“The law holds no sway over my mind,” Delevan replied. “ _M_ would be far more unforgiving. I am likely better off having said not a thing to you.”

The Inspector regarded him with a severe stare. “You do realize that your crimes are grave, indeed...”

“Let the magistrates determine how grave my crimes are. And let this Beta rot in hell with his bitch wife.”

Bern couldn't help but let out a small laugh. At this very moment, he couldn't wait to be home with Sophie, rolling her about in his bed and feeling her nails raking over his back. She was brilliant. She was beautiful. She had the spine and the wit of an Alpha and all the courage of her own gender's blessing. An Omega who seemed determined to cause as much trouble as humanly possible. “Hell could not hold this Omega of mine. Good day, Lord Delevan, Inspector...Wagner...I believe I have a ball to attend. I'll leave you all to it. Keep me updated, would you? I should hate to miss anything.”

The Inspector nodded. “No doubt we will require you for the inquest...and the trial...”

“I shall be in London. Come, bitch wife,” he grinned, taking her hand and placing it upon his arm. “There is more mischief to be made here, I think.”

“Grand,” she breathed, “for it has become boring already. Entertain me, husband.”

They left together, arriving again into the ballroom and the myriad of people rustling about each other as the music played on. He could hardly do more than stare at her, her poise enviable and her beauty that of a glistening star among a sea of night. It was easy to place terrible things behind him now that he had _her._ She was his light. She was everything.

“You are disgustingly sweet right now, Bernard. I rather prefer you dry and without humor.”

“Then you will have to hurt me, my love. For the presence of you has altered me...forever.”

She was smiling. “How sad.”

“How fortunate, you mean. Do you remember when you told me that you could never love me?” He walked her past the Alphas who stared at him in varying degrees of pity or indignant annoyance and then past the cluster of Omegas who peered at her with interest and curiosity. “Do you remember when you wept in my drawing room because I could not wed you?”

“I remember.”

“And do you remember our wedding night?”

She was smiling hard now, her cheeks a ruddy pink as she likely recalled the way she had caned him until he had been a drooling mess, unable to sit down the next day for the soreness of his rump. He had taken breakfast standing and had lifted her up against the wall of his study to open her when she came to him that afternoon, taking her despite the position's awkwardness if only for the pain of what she had done to him.

“Y-Yes...Bernard...”

He led her out onto the terrace where a few couples were standing together. He took her down the stairs into the gravel path of the garden and the cool air of the night. He paused just behind the nearest hedgerow and stopped with her. “Do you know how much I adore you, Sophie? Can you really know?”

“Bern...” Her scent was growing even sweeter as she stood with him without even a shiver despite the chilliness.

“I know that I've pledged myself to you forever but I feel that I have far too many raging emotions for you to have understood the depths of my passion for you.”

“Bernard...” she replied, somewhat breathless, leaning forward into him.

“I know...you are a passionate woman yourself. I should not take you for granted a single moment of my life. If only there was a way to truly show you how much you mean to me. One that mirrored the visceral passions of an Alpha...”

She was laughing now and she pressed her head against the nook of his shoulder, her scent heavy and marked. “ _Bernard!_ ”

“Yes?”

“I...I need to go home...with you. Around the house, not through it, please.”

“Around the—”

“As much as I would adore causing mischief with you, Bernard, I believe we shall have to postpone the frivolities.” She gripped his waistcoat hard. “Unless, that is, you would like me to ravish you here and now in this garden. I am beginning to grow desperate for you, mate.”

“Oh my god.” He hadn't been counting weeks. “Sophie...why didn't you tell me you were so close?”

“This was our opportunity, Bernard. I could not possibly let something so trivial come between Delevan and justice!”

“Trivial? What if you had gone into heat while...while...gracious, woman, we've been out of that room for just minutes!”

“I believe you call that 'providence,' sir.”

“I believe I call it reckless and ill-advised.”

“Take me home and show me how passionate you are for me,” she challenged. “I know you're just dying to have me desperate for you. I want you to touch me this time, Bernard. I want you to hold me close.”

“I do like you pliant.”

“If you sate me, Bernard, I will hit you...you would like that, wouldn't you?”

His voice was a husky growl filled with an unexpected amount of lust. “Yes...I...I would like that.”

“Very well. Take me home, Beta. Bring me to your bed and give me all of you.”

He could hardly move fast enough. Ushering her through the dark lawn, their coach was fetched and nearly as soon as they were inside it, she was on him, her gown rucked up and her thighs straddled over his lap as they rocked over the unsteady cobblestone streets back to his town house. She was half-violent when she tore off his cravat, her nose hard into his throat.

“Bernard...” she breathed against his flesh, causing goosebumps to rise over his body. “You smell so good...better than anything...you smell like...like...the crisp of an apple's skin breaking between my teeth...like birdsong through my window in the cold of spring...like the rasp of beach sand upon the bottoms of my feet...”

“Sophie...” he grunted, pressing down over her back so that the center of her was against the bulge of his groin. “You, my love...you smell of a dozen summers, the work of a hundred honey bees, and the glimmer of a thousand stars... You are the dapples over the forest floor and the shift in temperature when a cloud sweeps in and out of the sun's rays...” He wedged his hand between them and managed to release himself from his trousers, gasping when he felt himself sink into her. She wasn't wearing drawers—again. “Sophie, Sophie, _Sophie._ ” He groaned as she pulled his hair in her fist.

“Bernard, please. Rut me.”

He slid his palms to her hips and guided her over him, slapping her up and down as she soaked him in slick. Her heat scent, trapped in such a small space, was driving him wild. What could it be like for Alphas if it was like this for him? He couldn't even begin to fathom. She drove him to a frantic pace, giving out desperate little cries while she clung to him.

“B-Bern... _Bern..._ I...I...I need you. I need more of you. I want everything. I want it all. How could you have left me alone the last...the last...” She was too breathless to finish, writhing over him to drive him deeper inside her, her body clenching around him as she panted.

Ah, he thought sadly, she still begrudged him of the last time he had left her alone during her heat. Well, he supposed, he would simply have to make up for that. He grasped the back of her coiffure and felt some of her pins come loose when he hauled her head down to kiss her, ravaging her mouth like he'd never done before. She was normally so very cold when she took him, but now she was hot. She was raging with fever. Passion overflowed from her and so much so that she didn't stop riding him even when Urwin had opened the door to the coach.

The butler, entirely unfazed by the scene before him, made deliberate eye contact with Bern before he prudently closed the door to the coach again, leaving Bernard to weather Sophie's first orgasm alone.

“ _Buh-Berrrnnn..._ ” she moaned while her body shuddered around him and her body tightened, shoving him over his own precipice until he was emptied inside her. He'd never felt anything like this—the tightness of an Omega's body clamping hard in search of a knot. It was nearly too much, he thought, finding the sensation just bordering on painful.

“Darling, my love...” he pleaded with her, grimacing with the hard squeeze of her. It nearly felt as though she might force him out. “We have to go inside. Can you do that for me? Can you help me take you inside? We can have you naked on my bed,” he rasped in her ear while she nibbled on his. “I can make you come again. I can put my mouth to you. I can rut you down into the pillows. I can make you scream, Sophie...but you have to help me get you upstairs.” How he was to manage it, he wasn't certain. After all, if he couldn't get his trousers put back together, he'd be walking to his room with his tackle bobbing about. Even if he did manage to get himself tucked away, he'd still have a lap soaked in slick.

_What am I even worried about? Urwin already just saw her desperately taking what she could from me—how could it get any more embarrassing?_

With this thought in mind, he lifted her off of him and bodily moved her so that she was perched on the edge of the seat across from him. When she reached for him again, he stayed her by gripping her shoulders and squeezing once. Her expression was formless with want and her breaths were shallow but she stayed. At least long enough for him to gather himself together and put himself away. He was right, however—the whole of his lap was absolutely sopping with her slick. It had a musky, almost metallic scent beneath the sweetness of her heat and it was unmistakeable. There was so much of it that his trousers stuck to him as though he had just emerged from a pool.

“Oh for Christ's sake...” he grumbled as he opened the coach door and eased his way out, turning toward Sophie again to urge her into his arms. Bern easily took her and held her as though she were newly wedded to him again, leaving the coach and tapping up the steps to the town house where the door was opened by a very stoic-looking Urwin.

The butler's calm voice held a hint of a sardonic edge. “Sir, you've a visitor in your parlor.”

“Thank god they're in the parlor. Tell them to go home.” He could feel his face burning while Sophie mewled in his grip.

A deep, resounding voice came to him and he snapped his head in that direction, his flush spreading down all the way to his toes when he found Emmett striding into the hall. “Well see here, Mr. Porter, I—” His voice cut away, completely lost at the sight—and the smell—of them.

Urwin stepped between them directly and addressed the interloping Alpha with the aplomb he was famous for. Of course, Bern didn't hear what was said, he was too busy climbing the stairs and correcting himself over what the hell could have been more embarrassing than having Urwin open the coach to see him fucking his wife. His brother-in-law catching him slick-soaked and freshly ridden definitely made it higher on the list. Thankfully, Sophie didn't seem to have noticed, her face against his throat and her teeth worrying his bare neck.

Of course, when Bern deposited her on the bed, she took him by surprise.

“What did Emmett want?”

“God knows. I don't care. I want you, Sophie.”

She struggled with her clothes, nearly ripping them before Bern was able to help her with the ribbons of her gown, pulling the damned thing off of her and leaving her bare among the sheets while he went to battle on his own vestments. When they were both naked, Sophie's stocking like empty snake skins on the carpet, he descended over her. It was a rare position for him—to be above her was to be in control but she gripped him, begging him with short pants and breathy pleas. Her thighs caged him and she reached between them to boldly tug at him. To make certain he was hard enough for her to take him.

“ _Bernard...I need you. Now._ ”

He didn't wait. He plunged within her in one smooth motion and he hissed when he felt her nails rake down his back savagely while she let out a loud and satisfied moan. Without preamble, he set a pace that was punishing, almost expecting her to slow him somehow...but he should have known better. This was Sophie Nolan: a woman who would never have enough of him. Soon, every slam inside her had her screaming out little yelps that no doubt reverberated through the house with their sharp alacrity. Her hands roved over his back, his shoulders, his hair, and then finally came above her head, finding purchase upon the decorative pieces of the headboard which jerked hard at every rock of the bed.

There was no time for romance here. There was nothing but pure, raw sex and Bern could feel himself losing control. He'd never felt like this. Was it the heat? Was it her? Was it the rush of pheromones to his brain? What was it about tonight? He'd almost decided that it was only because it was over—at least, the beginning was over. Delevan was a matter for someone else now and his wife was where she belonged—in his arms and in his bed. Though, as much as he liked her pliant, he liked her more when she was standing over him with a riding crop in her hand.

The thought of being hit again—of everyone knowing what she was doing to him...he felt his breath catch in his throat and he had to fight back from coming again. He couldn't. Not when she hadn't. That was the rule. That was the rule he'd made for himself and he was certainly going to follow it.

“ _Ah! Ahn! B-Bern! Bernard! Aahn!_ ” Sophie's cries warbled through his ears and her thighs tightened around him, her body squeezing again and pushing hard enough that it was difficult for him to keep his pace. She loosed one final ripping scream at her climax and he marveled at the moisture that suddenly spurted from her while she tensed and convulsed with rampant, unmeasured pleasure. He came with her, howling a bit in both pleasure and pain as she clamped him overly hard and dug her heels into his back to keep him rooted. She was still tensing over and over, uncontrolled, as she murmured his name. “ _Bernard...Bern...Bern...Bern..._ ”

“Sophie,” he breathed. “I think you might be the death of me yet.”

“I hadn't...I hadn't meant to...” she told him, her hair holding the shine of her sweat as it lay over the pillows, glinting in the orange firelight from the hearth. Her body was soft, the shadows long and dramatic over her face. Everything about her screamed that she was some kind of fantasy he'd conjured and he had to touch her just so to make certain that she was real. “Bernard,” she mused quietly, “you're tickling me.”

“I apologize, it is only that I need to know if you're real.”

“I'm quite real, I assure you. Has something happened for you to question whether or not I truly exist?”

He pressed his lips to her ear and then her cheek and then the side of her mouth. “Only that you're here and that you're in heat and that...you're in love with me...”

“Is that so difficult to imagine?” she asked with a small giggle. “Oh perhaps it is, forgive me. You are quite the dastardly Beta...but then again, I am the most unconventional of Omegas. We are well-matched.”

“Well-matched?” he asked softly. “You think so?”

“Oh yes...” she replied, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Very well-matched indeed. Now...I am sated for now, my love. Perhaps you will fetch me some water and, on your way, you will see what Emmett is here about.”

“Hmmm...that would require me to not only don my robe and find my slippers, it would require me to remove myself from your side, which I do not think I'm capable of doing.”

“Someone must find out what has Emmett all in a twist...”

“Oh grace, fine,” he grumbled, pulling out of her and wiping himself brusquely before he stumbled from the bed. “But I'll be back in here to finish what we've started...I believe someone at a party tonight promised me that I would be hit.”

“You'll be hit. Harder if you fetch me my water.”

He felt a smile creep onto his face as he pulled on some fresh drawers and found his robe lying over the back of a chair near the fireplace, just where he liked it to be. “I'll hold you to that, my Lady. Now that everything's sorted, I think we've got plenty to occupy us in each other.”

“Mmm,” she replied sleepily, drawing up the covers and rolling away from him as if all she could think of was sleep. He very highly doubted that he would be struck at all by her tonight. It was likely that she would not find the energy until she had been properly fucked after a good night's sleep.

Making certain that she was lightly snoozing before he left, he crept down to the parlor again in his slippers, aware that he smelled heavily of lovemaking and Omega. It served that damned Alpha right, he thought, to come and interrupt them.

Emmett, at least, appeared pale as he stood by the fire in the downstairs parlor, a brandy in his hand while the other was deep in his pocket. He turned when Bern arrived, his eyes wide and pulling in all the evidence that his sister had just been soundly _put to bed_. “Gods,” he whispered to himself.

Bern ignored him. “What the devil could you be in London for, Broadspear? Haven't you got things to be doing? Such as telling my contractor that he's free to start work?”

“Well...” he started, the brandy in his hand nearly sloshing from how badly he was shaking. “Do you remember when you told me that should my past come back to haunt me, I'd best step up to meet it?”

He frowned. “You can't mean...”

“My...uh...my bastard...”

Bern sighed heavily. “Ah...”

The man's face was filled with an unspoken terror and all at once Bern understood—the boy's father had no doubt put him out. A babe had likely arrived upon the steps of Broadspear Manor with Emmett Nolan's name pinned to his swaddling clothes. His voice was soft and awestruck, as though he could not believe something he had seen with his very own eyes. “His name is Bishop.”

“And his last name?” Bern asked solidly.

“I think that's where I'm having trouble, Porter...”

“He's your son.”

Emmett blinked. “But he's not...legitimate...I can't throw him to the wolves, Porter. I can't call him by some bastard name. I...I've never felt this way before. His face...his hands...he's so small and helpless. And I can do nothing for him. I've no money, no land...all I have is a title and I cannot even give it to him...I'm less than useless to him, Porter.” There was moisture in the Alpha's eyes and it was a fact that was not lost upon Bern.

He swallowed. “You're asking me to take pity on you. Again.”

“You've already done so much...is it too much to bear? I can't help him, Porter. All I can do is raise him...I've nothing beyond.”

“Don't underestimate the importance of being a father to your son...even if he cannot bear your last name.” He crossed his arms and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “Having no title of import, and being far freer in my ability to cause scandal, you may call your son Bishop Porter if you like...but he is your responsibility. I expect you to pull your own weight enough to send him to Eton.”

Emmett gave out a small sniff, staring down at the carpet in front of Bern's slippers. “You're a good man, Bernard Porter.”

He grumbled again before he turned back toward the stairs. “Best you remember that when your dues come.”

He tried to forget all of that before he made it back to his bed but even as he was climbing under the counterpane and sidling in to curl against his wife, it was all swimming in his head. Emmett's bastard wandering about with his last name. It would be just as well, he supposed. They'd caused enough of a scandal to last them two lifetimes. What was one more? It wasn't as though they could lose Lady Hayworth's invitations and it wasn't as if they needed any more invitations at all anyway—they could stay in the country for the rest of their days for as much as he cared.

Sophie stirred sleepily. “Mm...what did Emmett want?”

“We've a son, you and I.”

“Oh?” she asked, reaching behind her and pulling his arm over her side, his hand between her small breasts.

“His bastard.”

“Hmm,” she mused, “how nice. He'll need a friend to play with, of course. Perhaps you'll help me with that endeavor in the morning. What's the little one's name?”

“Bishop. Porter.”

She smiled wide, tucking her head further against the pillows. “You have a weakness for children, don't you, Beta?”

He kissed he back of her neck sweetly. “No. Only for pitiful creatures. Pitiful creatures who are severely underestimated.”

Sophie let out a tired giggle. “Bishop...oh yes. I think he'll live up to your expectations very well, Bernard. Very well indeed.”

* * *

**Epilogue**

Bishop Porter was twelve years old. His big, cornflower blue eyes peered out over the estate from where he stood on the far edge of it, standing upon the stone wall that separated the land from the neighboring one. Broadspear Manor towered in the distance, stately and regal and just to the side was the distillery which worked at every hour of the day. The sun was directly above, shining down over the swaying grasses of the meadows and fields of grain, cut every so often by wisps of white clouds. This was Bishop's domain. This was where he ruled.

“Halt, wolf!” he cried, pointing his wooden sword down toward the meadow where his brother stood, his nose smudged with coal ash to resemble the black snout of a wolf. “Step no further or I shall slay thee!”

“Thou will have to contend then with my _claws,_ knight!” his brother growled back, running and leaping to balance upon the stone wall a few feet from him. Their eyes were really the only thing they had in common, that blue that was more than blue and altered from ice to gray depending upon the strength of their moods. His brother, younger by two years, favored his father. This was something Bishop found to be quite endearing and it had caused him only to swell with more affection for him—for Sterling's father was the man who had given Bishop his last name.

Sterling, as it was, wasn't really his brother. But nobody knew that...especially not Sterling. He had asked, of course, that they not tell him. He didn't, under any circumstance, want his brother to know that they were not as close as brothers. He didn't want any sort of distance between them at all...and when one came down to it, “cousins” didn't have the same ring to it. It was an easy secret to keep—their eyes were the same color and Bishop looked remarkably like Lady Sophia.

He swung his sword but swung it slow on purpose so as not to hit Sterling accidentally. Of course, he left his flank wide open with the swing and the younger boy pounced as a wolf would pounce, crashing into him and sending them both tumbling off the stone wall and into a tuft of weeds which cushioned them from the hard ground. Still, he managed to tumble so that the boy's elbow was nearly in his throat and their legs were all tangled up together. He laughed, breaking character while he shoved away and picked himself up, brushing bits of plant material off of his clothes.

Bishop leaned over and picked up his sword, sheathing it in the loop on his belt. “God I can't wait for you to come to Eton with me, Sterling. You'll meet all my friends...they'll adore you.”

“Is it because I'm fully willing to be the villain?” he asked, rubbing at his nose to rid it of the black smudge before he reached out and wiped his palm upon his brother's fine waistcoat.

“Oh bugger you.”

“I'm going to tell father you've said that.”

“And I'll tell mother you've squealed.”

“And I'll tell father you were the one who replaced all the eggs in the hen house with boiled ones.”

Bishop started. “I didn't do tha—oh you little jackal! You can't go about telling father I've done everything. He'll never believe that. I do hope you don't lose that spirit of yours at school. We'll have a damned wicked time of it with you about.” He was grinning hard, chatting away with Sterling at his heels as they made their way back to the manor, arm-in-arm. They were nearly to the terrace when Bishop's name was called out.

Their uncle, Lord Broadspear, was tapping down the stone steps toward them, his jacket missing and his sleeves rolled to his elbows for the heat. “Bishop, I'm glad I've run into you. How would like to go fishing with me this afternoon? The lake's been stocked well this year and I've hardly had a chance to take you with me.”

He grinned again, dropping his arm from Sterling's. “Of course. I'd love to go. I will be there presently.”

The Alpha left them then to go and fetch the necessities of the outing while Bishop stood with Sterling, looking over at the younger boy and finding a curious expression on his face.

“What's the matter, Sterling?”

“Oh...nothing. It is just that...you know...he never asks _me_ to go fishing with him. Is it some kind of thing with older brothers? Some sort of secret club? I've not yet figured it out, you see. I've been only a little jealous.”

He swallowed. The truth was that Lord Broadspear wasn't really Bishop's uncle—but he couldn't tell Sterling that. No. Certainly not. And it had never occurred to him that the boy might feel some sort of jealousy over the matter. Now, however, he could fathom it. After all, they shared Sterling's father perfectly well, but his own...well Lord Broadspear was something that Bishop had quite selfishly kept all his own.

“W-Well...perhaps next time I'll ask that he take us both. How would you like that?”

Sterling studied him for a few moments, carefully searching his face. “N-No. Actually, I think I'll go fishing with Father...you and his Lordship have been quite comfortable together and certainly you've chatted enough to have your threads of conversation. I would simply be lost should I come aboard with you. Father will take me.” He smiled then wide and happily. “Off then with you. I believe I'll go and bother Mama. She's been teaching me how to read her books.”

Relief washed over him and he pulled his brother into a tight hug, surprising the boy with it and startling him enough to force a yelp from him. “Thank you, Sterling. I love you, you know.”

He laughed. “I love you too, Bishop. What are brothers for if not for love?”

He felt tears prick at his eyes. “God knows.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was supposed to be more sex in this but 1. I was drunk. 2. Sophie was SLEEPY. How do you argue with that? You don't. Stay tuned. I'm gonna be running two stories this summer, one that is MaleAlpha/MaleOmega and one that is FemAlpha/FemBeta/FemOmega. Something for everyone I hope.


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